THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


The  Works  of  Leonard  Merrick 


THE  POSITION  OF 
PEGGY  HARPER 


The  Works  of 

LEONARD MERR10K 


CONRAD  IN  QUEST  OF  HIS  YOUTH.    With 

an  Introduction  by  SIB  J.  M.  BARBIE. 
WHEN  LOVE  FLIES  OUT  O'  THE  WINDOW. 

With  an  Introduction  by  SIB  WILLIAM  ROBEHT- 

BON  NICOLL. 

THE  QUAINT  COMPANIONS.    With  an  Intro- 
duction by  H.  G.  WELLS. 
THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER.    With 

an  Introduction  by  SIB  ABTHUR  PINEBO. 
THE  MAN  WHO  UNDERSTOOD  WOMEN  and 

other  Stories.     With  an  Introduction  by  W.  J. 

LOCKE. 
THE  WORLDLINGS.    With  an  Introduction  by 

NEIL  MUNBO. 
THE  ACTOR-MANAGER.   With  an  Introduction 

by  W.  D.  Ho  WELLS. 
CYNTHIA.    With  an  Introduction  by  MAURICM 

HEWLETT. 
ONE  MAN'S  VIEW.    With  an  Introduction  by 

GRANVILLE  BABKEB. 
THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  GOOD.    With  an  Intro- 

duction  by  J.  K.  PBOTHERO. 
A  CHAIR  ON  THE  BOULEVARD.     With  an 

Introduction  by  A.  NEIL  LYONS. 
THE  HOUSE  OF  LYNCH.    With  an  Introduo- 

tion  by  G.  K.  CHESTEBTON. 
WHILE  PARIS  LAUGHED:  BEIWQ  PEAKBB  AND 

PASSIONS  OF  THE  POET  TBICOTBIN. 


NEW  YORK 
E.  P.  DUTTON  &  COMPANY 


THE  POSITION  OF 
PEGGY  HARPER 

» 
By    LEONARD    M  E  R  R  I  C  K 

¥ 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 
ARTHUR  PINERO 


NEW  YORK 
E.  P.  DUTTON  AND  COMPANY 

681  FIFTH  AVENUE 


COPYRIGHT,  1912, 
BY  MITCHELL  KENNERLY 


COPYRIGHT,  1919, 
BY  B.   P.   BUTTON  AND   COMPANY 


All  Rights  Reserved 


The  First  American  Definitive  Edition,  with  Introduction  by 

Arthur  Pinero,  limited   to  1550  copies 

(of  which  only  1500  were  for  sale) 

Published  July   26th,   1919 
Second  American  Edition,  August,  1919 
.Third  "  "          August,  1919 

Fourth         "  "        October,  1919 


Printed  In  the7  United  States  of  America 


INTRODUCTION  CoO.  2- 

IT  is,  I  believe,  an  open  secret  that  Mr.  Mer- 
rick  was  once  upon  a  time  "on  the  stage,"  and 
the  reason  I  have  been  asked  to  write  a  short 
introduction  to  The  Position  of  Peggy  Harper 
is,  I  suppose,  that  I  also  was  an  actor  in  my  early 
days.  I  also  have  been  a  client  of  Mr.  Albe- 
marle,  the  theatrical  agent,  and  have  climbed 
too  that  stone  staircase  leading  to  Mr.  Potter's 
waiting-room  described  in  another  theatrical 
story  by  Mr.  Merrick,  When  Love  Flies  out  o* 
the  Window.  And  whether  you  call  Albemarle 
"Potter"  or  Potter  "Albemarle,"  no  man,  or 
woman,  can  hate  him  more  cordially  in  the  recol- 
lection than  I  do — not  even  Mr.  Merrick.  It  is 
true  that  my  Albemarle,  or  Potter,  is  dead  and 
gone — it  is  a  later  Albemarle  and  a  later  Potter 
that  Mr.  Merrick  has  drawn  for  us — and  that, 
according  to  a  merciful  rule,  I  ought  to  forgive 
him.  But  I  don't,  any  more  than  I  can  forget 
him.  He  sits  before  me  at  this  moment  with  his 
"silk  hat  on  his  head,  and  a  long  cigar  in  his 
mouth,  each  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees," 
a  most  shocking  bully.  I  can  see  myself  stand- 


2041664 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

ing  in  his  awful  presence,  as  Christopher  Tatham 
stood,  and  can  hear  myself  asking  him,  perhaps 
for  the  third  time  within  a  month,  if  he  had 
"anything  for  me";  and  his  contemptuous  reply, 
"Look  heah!  Would  yer  like  yer  money  back?" 
— my  money  being  the  "booking  fee"  of  five 
shillings — cuts  into  me  now,  as  I  recall  it,  almost 
as  sharply  as  if  I  had  only  just  felt  the  lick  of 
the  whip.  Even  the  knowledge  that  a  few  years 
afterwards  I  was  able  to  stalk  into  the  ruffian's 
private  office  and  patronize  him  loftily  fails  to 
cool  the  sting. 

But  on  the  doorstep  of  Albemarle's,  or  Pot- 
ter's, dramatic  agency,  Mr.  Merrick  and  I,  so 
far  as  our  theatrical  experiences  go,  seem  to  part 
company.  Chance  guided  me  into  fairly  smooth 
paths;  Mr.  Merrick,  fortunately,  was  to  tread 
rougher  ones.  I  say  fortunately,  because  it  is 
to  Mr.  Merrick's  obviously  first-hand  acquaint- 
ance with  the  lower  grade  theatre  that  we  owe 
at  least  two  quite  remarkable  studies  of  shady 
theatrical  life  and  character — the  novel  to  which 
these  few  words  are  prefixed,  and  the  before- 
mentioned  When  Love  Flies  out  o'  the  Window. 
Though  my  experiences  may  have  differed  from 
Mr.  Merrick's,  I  have  seen  enough  of  the  seamy 
side  of  the  stage  to  enable  me  to  youch  for  the 
truth  of  these  two  works. 


INTRODUCTION  yii 

The  story  of  Peggy  Harper,  as  the  reader  will 
soon  find,  is  a  simple  affair.  I  don't  propose  to 
retell  it  here.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  any  ordinarily 
equipped  story-teller  desiring  to  treat  of  the 
theatre  could,  without  a  great  expenditure  of 
mental  effort,  conceive  the  story  of  Peggy  Har- 
per. But,  having  conceived  it,  nobody,  I  am 
convinced,  could  unfold  it  in  such  a  consum- 
mately natural,  unforced  way  as  Mr.  Merrick 
unfolds  it,  nor  people  it  as  he  peoples  it.  Chris- 
topher, the  wretched  Galbraith,  poor  Elsie  Lane, 
Armytage  the  bogus-manager,  Naomi  Knight, 
Logan  Ross,  Mrs.  Harper,  Peggy  herself,  are 
a  wonderful  little  group  etched  with  unerring 
fidelity  and  power  of  suggestion.  Galbraith  I 
have  met  too  often.  He  is  to  be  found — was  to 
be  found,  at  any  rate — in  the  higher  class  theatre 
as  well  as  in  the  lower.  One  of  my  Galbraiths, 
a  man  of  education  and  a  good  fellow,  who  once 
held  a  prominent  position  in  the  principal  Lon- 
don theatres,  is  finishing  his  days  in  a  provincial 
workhouse.  Mr.  Merrick  foreshadows  a  similar 
fate  for  his  Galbraith.  Naomi,  in  male  form, 
was  a  close  friend  of  mine.  Everybody  in  stage- 
land  is  familiar  with  the  actor  who,  terribly  in 
earnest,  has  settled  ideas  as  to  exactly  how  a  part 
should  be  played,  and  who,  whether  his  ideas  are 
sound  or  unsound,  is  utterly  unable  to  embody 


>!ii  INTRODUCTION 

them;  but  it  was  left  to  Mr.  Merrick  to  give  us, 
in  Naomi  Knight,  a  picture  of  this  pathetic  mix- 
ture of  enthusiasm  and  incapacity.  Logan  Ross 
is  not  the  equal  of  the  amazing  Spencer  Parlett 
in  When  Love  Flies  out  oj  the  Window — the 
latter  is  one  of  Mr.  Merrick's  really  big  things — 
but  Ross  is  a  fine  portrait  nevertheless.  I  am 
not  quite  so  sure  about  Theodosia  Moore,  but  I 
have  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  the  ineffably  vul- 
gar, hen-brained  Peggy.  She  is  another  of  Mr. 
Merrick's  masterpieces.  The  scene  of  her  final 
dismissal  of  Christopher,  short  as  it  is,  and  the 
incidents  immediately  leading  up  to  it,  are  among 
the  perfect  bits  of  verisimilitude  in  fiction.  The 
young  lady's  last  speech — to  quote  it  would  spoil 
the  thrill — is  an  ineradicable  memory. 

Short  as  it  is.  There  you  have  the  very  spirit 
of  Mr.  Merrick's  literary  gift  and  method — • 
conciseness  and  ease.  He  will  reveal  in  a  seem- 
ingly careless  half -sentence  what  another  writer 
will  take  a  page  over,  or  will  heavily  underscore. 
Not  for  Mr.  Merrick  is  the  laboured  analysis — 
analysis  run  mad  in  some  cases — of  many  of  our 
modern  novelists,  nor  the  loud  devices  of  the  de- 
liberate sensationalist.  A  little  earlier  I  have 
used  the  expression  "etched,"  and  this  expression 
indicates,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  characteristic 
feature,  and  the  high-water  mark,  of  Merrick's 


INTRODUCTION  is 

genius.  He  does  with  his  pen  what  a  fine  etcKer 
does  with  his  needle.  Working  in  a  far  different 
medium,  he  gives  us  the  special  qualities  of  the 
etched  line — its  animation,  its  spontaneousness, 
its  rare  economy.  "Every  stroke  he  makes  tells 
strongly  against  him  if  it  be  bad,"  says  Seymour 
Haden  of  the  etcher,  "or  proves  him  to  be  a 
master  if  it  be  good.  In  no  branch  of  art  does  a 
touch  go  for  so  much.  The  necessity  for  a  rigid 
selection  is  therefore  constantly  present  to  his 
mind.  If  one  stroke  in  the  right  place  tell  more 
for  him  than  ten  in  the  wrong,  it  would  seem  to 
follow  that  that  single  stroke  is  a  more  learned 
stroke  than  the  scores  of  ten  by  which  he  would 
have  arrived  at  his  end."  Adapt  these  terms  to 
the  art  of  the  novel-writer,  and  Mr.  Merrick 
emerges  from  the  test  triumphantly.  Take  as  an 
example  of  his  etching  method — and  I  select  it 
almost  at  haphazard — his  description,  in  Peggy 
Harper.,  of  the  personal  appearance  of  Army- 
tage  the  bogus-manager: 

"The  advertiser — who,  it  transpired,  called 
himself  Armytage — was  evidently  attired  for 
the  occasion.  He  wore  a  frock-coat,  in  combina- 
tion with  a  summer  waistcoat,  much  crumpled, 
and  the  trousers  of  a  tweed  suit.  A  garnet  pin 
ornamented  the  wrong  portion  of  a  made-up  tie." 

Now,  this  is  neither  Impressionism  nor  Real- 


x  INTRODUCTION 

ism  in  the  sense  that  these  words  are  bandied 
about.  It  is  a  plain,  straightforward,  apparently 
effortless  account  of  a  man's  apparel,  his  coat, 
waistcoat,  trousers,  necktie.  It  doesn't  cry  out 
in  the  voice  of  the  Impressionist,  "Look!  See 
how  clever  I  am,  how  nothing  escapes  me;  how 
I  observe,  in  a  flash,  what  is  hidden  from  the 
common  vision!",  nor  does  it,  with  the  larger  lib- 
erality of  the  Realist,  afford  us  a  glimpse  of 
Mr.  Armytage's  soiled  undervest.  To  carry  the 
contrast  still  further,  it  has  nothing  of  the  snap- 
shot on  the  one  hand,  nor  the  scalpel  and  the  dis- 
secting-table  on  the  other.  I  repeat,  it  is  the 
most  modest  of  statements;  but  every  stroke,  as 
in  a  skilful  etching,  being  "in  the  right  place," 
the  imagination  is  stimulated  to  evolve  from  it 
the  whole  history  of  the  miserable  Armytage. 
Struggle,  defeat,  poverty,  the  fight  for  life,  the 
pitiful  roguery — all  is  suggested,  as  it  were,  upon 
the  bitten  plate.  The  trousers  of  a  tweed  suit! 
There  is  the  "learned  stroke."  The  "garnet  pin 
ornamenting  the  wrong  portion  of  a  made-up 
tie"  is  eloquent  enough,  but  the  trousers  of  a 
tweed  suit  in  conjunction  with  the  frock-coat — 
out  of  date  and  shiny  at  its  elbows,  as  we  are 
allowed  to  suspect — is  the  supreme  touch. 

Perhaps  it  is  the  spectacle  of  the  sombre  figure 
of  Tragedy  tugging  at  Comedy's  sleeve,  and 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

holding  his  sinister  face  close  to  hers,  so  con- 
stantly recurring  in  Mr.  Merrick's  work  even  in 
its  lightest  moments,  that  has  cost  this  author 
many  thousands  of  readers.  What  Forster  says 
of  Dickens,  in  a  criticism  of  Bleak  House,  may 
with  truth  be  said  of  Mr.  Merrick,  that  he  shares 
with  the  Frenchman  the  gift  of  being  serious 
gaily  and  charmingly.  But  the  gaiety  of  Mer- 
rick  is  never  quite  so  buoyant,  so  wholehearted, 
as  the  gaiety  of  Dickens;  the  note  of  reservation 
is  always  present;  a  shadow,  if  only  a  flicker,  is 
seldom  absent  from  the  printed  page.  Which  is 
slightly  disturbing  to  that  class  of  reader  who, 
in  opposition  to  nature,  likes  his  sunshine  un- 
mottled.  When  I  first  met  Mr.  Merrick  I  told 
him,  appositely,  a  story.  Here  it  is.  A  young 
actor,  whom  I  knew  in  later  years  and  from 
whom  I  heard  the  tale,  was  making  his  first  ap- 
pearance in  London  at  an  East  End  theatre,  in 
a  "juvenile"  part  in  a  melodrama.  He  had  fin- 
ished dressing,  and  was  sitting  waiting  for  the 
call-boy  to  shout  "beginners,"  when  an  old  stager 
dressing  at  the  same  bench,  after  surveying  him 
steadily,  said,  "Laddie,  where's  your  wig?" 
"Wig?"  inquired  my  friend.  "Yes,"  returned 
the  old  man,  "you've  forgotten  your  wig." 
"Oh,"  said  the  novice,  "I'm  not  wearing  a  wig. 
You  see,  I'm  playing  a  young  fellow  of  my  own 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

age.  Might  be  myself,  in  fact.  I  don't  need  a 
wig."  "Ah!  H'm!"  replied  the  old  man  gravely, 
"you're  wrong,  laddie ;  believe  me,  you're  wrong. 
They  look  for  a  wig  in  this  theatre" 

Alas!  in  the  theatre  of  books,  as  well  as  in 
the  theatre  of  plays,  a  vast  number  of  people  are 
still  looking  for  wigs.  And  Mr.  Merrick's  char- 
acters wear  none,  being  the  creatures  not  only 
of  keen  observation  but  of  a  strict  literary  integ- 
rity. The  issue  of  a  Collected  Edition  of  the 
works  of  Leonard  Merrick  is  therefore  a  matter 
for  special  rejoicing;  for,  with  it,  this  most  ac- 
complished and  unobtrusive  of  narrators  may  be 
said  to  have  come  into  his  own. 

ARTHUR  PINEEO. 


THE   POSITION   OF 
PEGGY  HARPER 


BOOK  I 

CHAPTER  I 

A  GENTLEMAN  who  had  been  called  to  the  Bar, 
expecting  to  make  a  great  name  and  a  large 
fortune,  died  obscurely,  leaving  the  sum  of  £57 
3s.  6d.f  a  widow,  and  a  son.  His  other  surviving 
relative  was  a  married  sister.  This  lady  said  to 
her  husband,  who  was  lucratively  associated  with 
hops,  "You  had  better  find  a  berth  for  Chris- 
topher in  the  office,  George." 

Christopher  Tatham  had  come  down  abruptly 
from  Oxford,  where  George  Spaulding  and  his 
wife,  not  unreasonably,  considered  that  it  was 
preposterous  to  have  sent  him,  and  had  seemed 
to  view  his  proposed  introduction  to  the  office 
in  a  proper  light.  Then,  in  a  burst  of  confidence 
one  day,  he  avowed  to  his  aunt  that,  from  his 
childhood,  he  had  been  ambitious  to  go  on  the 
stage.  And  he  did  not  go  into  the  office.  "Uncle 
George"  had  an  open  mind,  and  sons  of  his  own 
to  share  the  profits  of  hops,  and  he  said,  "Well, 
if  he  has  any  talent  that  way,  the  best  thing  he 

1 


2        THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

can  do  is  to  become  an  actor — there's  no  future 
for  him  in  the  business,  you  know.  Tell  him  to 
come  and  stay  with  us  while  he  looks  round." 

The  process  of  looking  round,  as  conducted 
by  a  novice,  led  to  nothing  but  fruitless  inter- 
views with  needy  persons  who  advertised  for 
"Amateurs  of  ability"  and  sought  simpletons  of 
means,  but  Mr.  Spaulding  occasionally  met  foot- 
light  favourites  at  Masonic  dinners,  and  gener- 
ously he  proceeded  to  make  himself  a  nuisance 
to  them.  "A  young  protege  of  mine,  who  is  an 
aspirant  for  histrionic  honours"  figured  in  his 
discourse  so  often  that  several  theatrical  celebri- 
ties grew  profane  when  they  found  they  were  to 
sit  next  to  him.  His  persistence  at  last  secured 
a  chance  for  Tatham  to  make  his  debut  at  a 
fashionable  theatre  as  an  "extra  gentleman" — : 
in  which  capacity  he  received  a  guinea  a  week, 
and  his  principal  duty  was  to  simulate  enjoy- 
ment of  an  imitation  ice-cream  composed  of  pink 
cotton-wool.  "Extra  gentlemen"  are  super- 
numeraries of  some  refinement,  who  possess 
dress-clothes  of  their  own  and  don't  look  like 
waiters  when  they  are  meant  to  represent  Lady 
Alethea's  guests.  The  widow,  meanwhile,  had 
been  living  in  a  boarding-house  on  the  balance 
of  the  £57  3s.  6d.  Her  son  took  fifteen  shillings 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER        3 

of  his  salary  to  her  every  Sunday  and  continued 
to  be  sheltered  by  the  Spauldings. 

The  career  of  the  comedy  was  discomfitingly 
brief,  and  the  one  that  followed  it  extended  no 
hospitality  to  "guests."  But  after  an  anxious 
interval,  the  aspirant  obtained  an  opportunity 
— thanks  to  Masonic  dinners  again — to  play 
small  parts,  at  small  terms,  in  a  stock  company 
in  the  East  End.  His  first  appearance  there 
was  made  as  "Ginger  Bill"  in  The  Romany  Rye, 
and  when  he  put  on  the  corduroys,  and  the  car- 
roty wig  that  didn't  fit  him,  the  evil  heat  of  the 
dressing-room  and  the  smell  of  the  other  actors' 
fried  fish  and  chips  intensified  the  sickness  of  his 
terror. 

However,  his  performance  of  a  hooligan  gave 
satisfaction,  though  he  had  amused  the  East  End 
company  at  rehearsal  by  having  to  inquire  the 
meaning  of  the  word  "barney"  in  his  part.  The 
audience  paid  him  the  compliment  of  calling  him 
before  the  curtain  in  the  role  of  "Ginger  Bill." 
They  approved  him  moderately  in  various  roles 
that  he  sustained  during  the  season.  And  then, 
one  red-letter  night,  a  provincial  actress,  who 
had  come  to  the  theatre  to  star  in  a  sensational 
drama  of  her  own  composition,  offered  him  an 
engagement  to  tour  in  it. 

It  was  a  testimonial.     There  was  jealousy. 


$        THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

*' She'd  have  liked  to  get  me"  declared  a  fa- 
vourite of  Whitechapel,  devouring  his  pen'orth 
of  fried  fish,  "but  she  said,  'I  know  what  it  is — 
you  London  actors  won't  leave  town!' '  In  the 
new  engagement,  the  weekly  salary  was  a  couple 
of  pounds,  and  the  young  man  contrived  to  remit 
a  sovereign  each  week  now  to  his  mother.  It 
was  progress.  It  was  felt  that  "Christopher  was 
beginning  to  get  on."  Only,  when  the  tour  ter- 
minated, he  was,  naturally,  again  without  money 
to  live  on  while  he  waited  for  the  next. 

Of  course,  his  uncle  and  aunt  understood  the 
circumstances,  and  he  was  told  to  remember  that 
he  had  a  "home  to  go  to."  He  was  told  to  re- 
member it  on  subsequent  occasions.  But  actors 
in  their  novitiate,  without  theatrical  families  to 
smooth  their  path,  need  a  home  to  go  to  very 
often,  and  Tatham,  who  was  denied  the  possi- 
bility of  saving  anything  while  an  engagement 
lasted,  needed  one  even  oftener  than  most  of 
them.  As  time  went  on,  the  Spauldings  did  not 
actually  conclude  that  he  had  been  misled  by 
vanity  and  hadn't  any  aptitude  for  acting,  but 
they  sighed  that  it  was  "strange  he  didn't  do 
better";  they  did  not  say  bluntly  that  he  was 
"to  blame,"  but  they  said  disparagingly  he  was 
"unlucky."  It  began  to  be  obvious  to  them  that 
a  young  man  who  had  a  mother  to  support  would, 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER        5 

after  all,  be  more  suitably  employed  in  a  perma- 
nent clerkship  than  in  a  precarious  profession. 
And  their  nephew  became  acutely  conscious  of 
their  view. 

He  was  acutely  conscious  of  it  this  evening. 
Another  third-rate  tour  had  reached  its  last 
night,  and  to-morrow  he  would  have  to  present 
himself  at  Regent's  Park  once  more.  He  sick- 
ened to  think  of  it.  He  was  performing  a  part 
devoid  of  human  nature,  in  a  melodrama  that 
outraged  possibilities,  to  an  audience  for  whom 
it  was  fully  good  enough;  but  he  had  looked  for- 
ward to  better  things,  and  his  heart  was  in  his 
calling,  though  its  apprenticeship  was  foul. 
Sentiment  possessed  him  as  he  spoke  the  final 
lines  of  the  balderdash  and  left  the  stage,  won- 
dering whether  he  would  ever  stand  upon  a  stage 
again.  Envy  of  the  other  men  assailed  him,  un- 
talented  and  unambitious  as  he  knew  most  of 
them  to  be — at  least  they  belonged  to  "the  pro- 
fession." It  was  their  destiny,  while  his  own 
foothold  in  it  was  so  insecure.  Yes,  he  had  al- 
ways felt  it  to  be  insecure.  Even  across  his 
brightest  moments  had  rolled  the  misgiving, 
"Will  it  last?" 

"Galbraith,"  he  said  in  the  dressing-room,  to 
a  tall,  spare  man  seated  before  a  looking-glass, 


"how  did  you  find  engagements  at  the  start — 
before  people  had  heard  of  you?" 

Mr.  Galbraith,  who  was  habited  as  a  parson, 
and  had  still  to  play  in  two  scenes,  was  smoking 
a  pipe,  while  he  dabbed  chalk  on  his  hair  to  be- 
token anguish  induced  by  a  prodigal  son.  He 
was  a  man  of  education,  who  had  once  been  a 
West  End  actor.  His  descent  was  due  to  drink, 
a  vice  which  he  solemnly  renounced  as  often  as 
compassion  entrusted  him  with  another  chance 
to  earn  his  bread.  For  weeks  and  sometimes 
months  at  a  stretch  he  would  be  a  total  abstainer, 
proclaiming  barley-water  his  beverage  for  life — • 
only  to  succumb,  in  his  most  confident  hour,  and 
be  dismissed  abusively  from  one  company  more. 
He  remained  in  this  one  because,  when  his  out- 
break occurred,  the  tour  had  been  so  near  its  end 
that  the  manager  had  shirked  the  trouble  of  re- 
placing him,  but  the  spectacle  of  an  intoxicated 
parson  exhorting  his  son  to  reformation  had  in- 
jured the  week's  receipts. 

"Before  people  had  heard  of  me  it  was  easier 
to  find  engagements,"  he  exclaimed;  "it's  since 
people  know  me  I  can't  get  shopped." 

"You  know  what  I  mean,  Galbraith.  What 
can  I  do  ?  Answering  the  advertisements  in  The 
Era  is  no  use — nobody  ever  answers  me.  It 
amounts  to  this,  if  I  don't  find  something  else 


JTHE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER        7 

very  soon,  I  shall  have  to  leave  the  professionl" 

The  imminence  of  such  a  catastrophe  did  not 
seem  to  thrill  Galbraith;  he  puffed  smoke 
placidly. 

"Where  were  they  when  you  came  up?"  he 
asked.  "Is  it  near  my  cue?" 

"No,  Miss  Lane  hadn't  been  on  yet;  you've 
heaps  of  time.  Do  you  think  I  shall  ever  do  any 
good,  Galbraith?" 

"You'll  do  better  than  you're  doing  now,  boy. 
I  don't  think  you'll  ever  play  Hamlet." 

"Look  here,  I  couldn't  ask  many,  in  the  sort 
of  crowds  I've  been  with;  but  you  can  tell  me, 
you're  a  finished  actor " 

"Finished  and  done  for,"  assented  Galbraith 
cheerfully. 

"Not  if  you'd  have  enough  will!  Any  man- 
agement would  be  glad  to  have  you  if  they  could 
rely  on  your  resolutions.  I  don't  want  to  fool 
myself ;  tell  me  the  truth.  I  know  I  lack  experi- 
ence— and  I  can't  get  experience  if  I  don't  get 
parts — but  supposing  I  can  hold  out  and  I  do 
get  the  experience,  am  I  ever  likely  to  succeed? 
Do  you  think  I've  any  gift  for  the  stage?" 

Galbraith  had  been  before  the  public  for  thirty 
years,  but  Tatham  had  put  a  question  that  no 
actor  had  ever  asked  him  before.  He  reflected 
before  he  spoke. 


8        THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"Laddie,"  he  said,  and  he  had  no  aspiration 
to  make  epigrams,  "the  greatest  gifts  for  the 
stage  are  money,  and  luck.  Almost  anybody  can 
learn  to  act  fairly  well  in  time;  and  if  you  have 
money,  you  can  pay  premiums,  and  you  can  take 
a  theatre,  and  you  can  commission  popular  au- 
thors to  write  parts  that  fit  you.  In  a  first-class 
stock  company  of  the  old  days,  Mr.  Albert  Jer- 
nyngham  would  be  playing  'Charles,  his  friend* 
— he  has  money,  or,  rather,  he  has  people  behind 
him  with  money,  and  so  he's  an  actor-manager 
and  plays  the  impassioned  hero.  Leaving  money 
out  of  it,  luck's  the  chief  thing — with  good  luck 
you  rise,  and  with  bad  luck  you  stick.  Good  luck 
gave  Fatty  Spencer,  who  has  never  played  any 
character  but  himself  in  his  whole  career,  the 
chance  to  make  a  hit  at  the  old  Diadem;  they 
happened  to  want  just  such  a  personality  as  his 
in  Pulteney's  Lies  for  a  Living.  Fatty's  very 
defects  shone  as  priceless  merits.  The  public 
shrieked  at  him,  and  he's  been  engaged  to  play 
himself  in  other  pieces,  at  big  terms,  ever  since. 
Plenty  of  men  who  could  act  him  off  the  stage 
are  feeding  at  Lockhart's.  Tipplers?  Improvi- 
dent? Not  a  bit  of  it — just  bad  luck.  They 
aren't  like  me,  they  haven't  themselves  to  blame. 
Somehow  they  never  chance  to  get  shopped  in  a 
thing  that  runs.  They're  engaged  for  West  End 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER        9 

shows,  they  give  their  time  to  rehearsals,  and  they 
get  good  notices.  But  the  play's  a  frost,  and  in 
a  month  or  six  weeks  they're  out  again.  Perhaps 
you  suppose  they  needn't  be  out  for  long,  if  the 
critics  praise  them?  Optimism  of  youth, 
Tatham ;  there's  no  continuous  service  of  engage- 
ments even  for  the  Fatties.  Besides,  by-and-hy 
they  get  known  as  Jonahs.  That's  a  reputation 
that  ruined  an  actor  who'd  been  said  by  the  Press 
to  be  the  greatest  tragedian  that  England  had 
had  since  Edmund  Kean.  In  his  case,  as  a  mat- 
ter  of  fact,  it  was  all  bunkum,  for  he  had  been 
in  several  runs,  but  he  did  get  called  a  Jonah, 
and  it  settled  him.  Once  let  a  manager  say  of  a 
man,  or  woman,  'Oh,  yes,  very  clever,  be  excel- 
lent in  the  part,  of  course,  but  an  unlucky  name 
— never  seen  in  a  success,'  and  it's  likely  to  mean 
a  vacation  of  twelve  months  in  the  year." 

He  knocked  the  dust  from  his  pipe,  and  went 
leisurely  downstairs.  Tatham,  when  he  had 
washed,  and  changed  his  clothes,  returned  there 
too.  He  did  not  leave  the  theatre  yet.  Most  of 
the  players  would  travel  to  London  in  the  morn- 
ing, like  himself,  but  others  foresaw  mean  streets 
in  Liverpool  and  elsewhere,  and  there  were  good- 
byes and  good  wishes  to  be  exchanged.  He 
loitered  in  the  wings  and  listened  to  Galbraith 
fervidly  delivering  a  speech  of  hackneyed  clap- 


10      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

trap  which  he  ridiculed  in  the  dressing-rooms. 
The  unsophisticated  audience  greeted  its  climax 
with  a  burst  of  applause,  while  behind  the  waver- 
ing walls  of  the  prodigal's  narrow  chambers  a 
grubby  scene-shifter  wheeled  forward  the  porch 
of  the  "Old  Home"  for  the  final  set.  The  "Old 
Home,"  to  the  accompaniment  of  incidental 
music,  played  out  of  tune  by  an  exiguous  orches- 
tra, was  duly  presented.  The  faithful  house- 
keeper, who  remembered  the  dear  young  master 
when  he  was  a  boy,  bless  his  heart,  attitudinised 
at  the  right  of  the  stage,  to  hearken  jubilantly  to 
a  peal  of  wedding-bells,,  which  the  prompter,  as 
usual,  sounded  at  the  left;  and  an  anxious  lead- 
ing man,  on  the  verge  of  unemployment,  de- 
claimed as  a  radiant  bridegroom  to  a  despondent 
leading  lady  whom  he  might  never  meet  after 
to-night,  that  "in  the  golden  years  before  them 
they  would  never  part  again." 

The  curtain  fell.  The  company  scurried  to 
tear  off  their  costumes  and  pack  their  small  be- 
longings. Tatham  knew  that  all  the  men,  ex- 
cepting Galbraith,  who  had  drunk  nothing  but 
tea  and  barley-water  for  ten  days,  were  impatient 
to  get  outside  before  the  bars  closed.  In  their 
haste  to  do  so,  some  would  neglect  to  remove  their 
paint.  The  back  of  the  stage  seemed  suddenly 
to  have  dissolved  into  the  night — the  canvas 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      11 

meadows  had  been  hauled  into  the  "flies,"  and  a 
real  moon  displayed  confusion  in  a  freezing  yard. 
A  vicious  wind  swept  the  bare  stage  as  "The  Old 
Home"  and  "The  Strong  Room  in  the  Bank  of 
England"  were  stacked  on  to  a  wagon. 

By  twos  and  threes  the  company  reappeared, 
carrying  garments  rolled  in  newspaper,  and  non- 
descript luggage  made  of  straw:  "Well,  ta-ta, 
dear!"  "See  you  some  day!"  "Coming  next 
door,  cully?"  Among  the  last  to  descend  was 
Elsie  Lane,  a  girl  whose  characterisation  of  an 
Irish  waif  supplied  the  one  touch  of  humanity 
that  the  piece  contained.  She,  too,  had  found 
engagements  in  the  West  End,  but,  unlike  Gal- 
braith,  she  had  never  had  important  parts  nor 
been  able  to  establish  herself  there — perhaps  be- 
cause she  wasn't  tall  enough,  perhaps  be- 
cause she  wasn't  pretty  enough,  certainly  not 
because  she  wasn't  clever  enough.  She  was  one 
of  those  actresses  of  whom  the  critics  continue 
to  WTite,  "A  capital  character  sketch  was  af- 
forded by  Miss  So-and-so,  who  has  yet  to  attain 
in  London  the  position  to  which  her  talents  en- 
title her."  When  a  country  actress  is  out  of 
work  and  old,  and  all  hope  has  been  dead  in  her 
for  many  years,  sometimes  she  re-reads  that  criti- 
cism in  her  poor  book  of  Press  cuttings.  Elsie 
Lane's  age  now  was  seven  or  eight  and  twenty, 


12      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

and  with  her  pale,  serious  face  and  her  quiet 
manner,  she  had  seemed  to  Christopher  more 
adapted  to  a  vicarage  than  to  a  theatre  until  he 
saw  her  act. 

They  went  through  the  stage-door  together. 
Her  lodging  lay  in  the  same  direction  as  his,  and 
he  carried  her  bag  for  her.  The  silent  roads  were 
slippery,  but  he  couldn't  give  her  his  arm,  because 
he  had  his  own  portmanteau  in  the  other  hand. 

"I  suppose  you  haven't  settled  for  anything 
else?"  she  asked  as  they  blundered  along. 

"No." 

"I  haven't,  either.  Isn't  it  horribly  cold!" 
Her  shoulders  were  hunched  under  her  spring 
jacket.  "I  can  lend  you  to-day's  Era  if  you  like; 
there  may  be  something  useful  in  it." 

"Thanks,  I've  seen  it,"  he  said;  "I've  written. 
I  squandered  fourpence  on  stamps  this  morning. 
I  shan't  hear  from  anybody." 

"One  never  does." 

"Well,  there's  no  need  for  you  to  worry — 
you  re  sure  to  be  all  right  one  day." 

"It  looks  like  it,  doesn't  it!"  She  had  applied 
as  a  "Strong  Character  Actress  (tall),"  and  a 
"Smart  Juvenile  Lady  (petite),"  and  as  a 
"Useful  Lady  (to  complete  company)" — prac- 
tically as  everything  except  a  "Pathetic  Child 
Actress  (accustomed  to  dying),"  and  a  "Col- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      13 

cured  Songstress."  Enjoined  by  the  advertisers 
to  "State  absolutely  lowest,"  sbe  had  stated  terms 
that  were  abject;  commanded  to  forward  "photos 
and  refs,"  she  had  sent  the  most  flattering  of  her 
photographs,  and  referred  to  the  most  prominent 
of  the  managers  by  whom  she  was  known.  Some 
of  the  advertisements  had  added,  "Silence,  a  po- 
lite negative,"  and  despite  the  variety  of  her  en- 
deavours, and  the  stamps  that  she  had  enclosed 
for  the  photographs  to  be  returned,  it  was  the 
only  politeness  that  she  had  received. 

"Was  it  always  so  difficult?"  asked  Tatham; 
"I  haven't  been  in  it  very  long  myself,  you 
know." 

"It  has  always  been  just  as  bad  in  my  time; 
it  was  easier  before  there  was  so  much  musical 
comedy,  they  say — there  aren't  so  many  vacan- 
cies as  there  used  to  be  for  people  who  don't  sing 
and  dance.  Those  who  pay  the  piper  call  the 
tune,  of  course ;  audiences  have  got  to  have  what 
they  want;  but  the  musical  comedy  tune  is  a 
funeral  march  to  a  good  many  of  us.  I  say,  I  do 
wish  you'd  give  me  that  bag  back!" 

It  was  bumping  against  him  provokingly,  but 
he  said  it  wasn't.  A  belated  mill-hand  clattered 
by  them.  After  the  mill-hand  passed,  the  white, 
vivid  distance  was  unpeopled.  Saying  a  little 


14      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

more,  they  trudged  through  the  sleeping  town 
till  the  girl's  doorstep  was  reached. 

"Thanks  awfully,"  she  said,  shivering.  "I'm 
not  sure  whether  I  shall  go  by  the  early  train  to- 
morrow or  not — if  we  don't  meet  at  the  station, 
good-bye." 

"Good-bye." 

"And  good  luck!" 

He  put  the  bag  down,  and  their  numbed  hands 
were  clasped  for  a  moment. 

"Good  luck  to  you,  Miss  Lane,"  he  said. 

Long  afterwards — when  he  had  forgotten  in 
what  town  it  had  been — he  remembered  that  walk 
through  white,  empty  streets,  and  his  wishing 
her  "luck"  on  a  doorstep. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  drawing-room  at  Regent's  Park  looked 
palatial  after  the  "bed-sitting  rooms"  in  which 
he  had  been  living  for  the  last  three  months,  and 
he  was  cordially  received.  Excepting  for  an 
explanation  that  the  spare  room  would  shortly 
be  required  for  one  of  the  married  daughters  and 
that  an  extra  bed  had  been  put  for  him  in  his 
cousin  Harold's  room,  instead — an  arrangement 
which,  he  surmised,  must  be  vastly  irksome  to 
his  cousin  Harold — there  was  little  to  remind 
him  that  he  was  in  the  way.  The  family  ques- 
tioned him  about  his  doings,  and  listened  smiling 
to  an  account  of  some  incidents  of  the  tour.  And 
when  his  aunt  inquired,  "Of  course,  you've  no 
idea  yet  what  you're  going  to  do  next?"  her  tone 
was  so  light  that  he  could  nearly  persuade  him- 
self that  her  heart  didn't  sink  when  he  said  "no." 

Then,  by  way  of  contributing  gossip  of  inter- 
est, Mr.  Spaulding  informed  the  group  that  the 
son  of  a  neighbour  had  just  gone  on  the  stage 
and  exhibited  such  ability  that  he  had  been  en- 
gaged at  ten  pounds  a  week  for  two  years  on 

15 


16      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

end.  The  hop  merchant,  astute  in  his  own  busi- 
ness, "knew  it  for  a  fact,  for  the  boy's  father  had 
told  him." 

"Wonderful!"  he  exclaimed  admiringly  to  his 
nephew;  "isn't  it?" 

The  wonder  was,  that  he  had  credited  the  lie, 
but  Tatham  couldn't  say  so ;  he  answered  that  it 
was  wonderful  indeed. 

And  Harold,  who  was  a  dandy,  and  was  al- 
ways chaffed  for  the  elaborate  care  that  he  took 
of  his  clothes,  had  been  so  good  as  to  huddle  them 
together  disastrously,  to  make  space  for  the 
guest's.  Some  guests  are  never  hilariously  con- 
tent. 

In  ordinary  circumstances,  next  morning, 
Tatham  would  have  gone  to  see  his  mother,  but 
the  lady  had  recently  removed  to  a  boarding- 
house  at  Sweetbay,  so  he  lunched  with  his  aunt. 
The  other  men  were  in  the  City. 

"Sweetbay  must  be  much  nicer  for  her  than 
Dalston,"  he  said;  "I  was  very  glad  to  hear  she 
was  going.  Does  she  like  it,  do  you  know?" 

"I  think  she  does,"  said  Mrs.  Spaulding;  "yes, 
I  think  she  likes  it  very  much  better.  She'd  been 
anxious  to  get  away  ^from  London  for  a  long 
time,  she  told  me." 

"Oh,  you've  seen  her?"  He  was  pleased,  for 
the  Spauldings  had  no  great  liking  for  his 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      17 

mother;  their  invitations  to  her  were  few,  and 
their  services  perfunctory. 

"No- — er — I  did  want  to  ask  her  to  come  and 
stay  with  us  for  a  week,  but  we've  had  such  a 
houseful  all  the  winter  that  there  was  really  no 
opportunity — there  have  been  friends  of  the  boys 
staying  here,  and  one  thing  and  another.  I  had 
a  letter  from  her.  She  said  she  didn't  want  to 
worry  you  about  it — you  were  doing  all  you 
could — but  she  wasn't  comfortable  where  she 
was,  and  there  was  a  place  at  Sweetbay  that 
would  take  her  for  very  little  more." 

" You've  sent  her  money  again?  That  was 
awfully  kind  of  you." 

"Oh,  well,  of  course,  we  couldn't  let  her  want 
— it  doesn't  amount  to  a  great  deal.  One  would 

like  to  do  more  than  that,  but "  She  sighed. 

"Your  uncle  has  so  many  claims  upon  him, 
you've  no  idea!  .  .  .  Of  course  it's  unfortunate 
you  find  the  stage  such  uphill  work.  If  you 
could  get  regular  engagements  it'd  be  different. 
You  know,  I  wonder  you  don't  try  for  a  good 
part  at  a  first-class  theatre,  Chris.  Modesty's 
all  very  well,  but  there's  such  a  thing  as  being 
too  modest;  I  think  you're  a  little  too — er — I 
think  you're  a  little  too  slow  to  move.  I  don't 
think  you've  enough  confidence  in  yourself.  If 
you  never  look  for  better  things,  you'll  never  get 


18      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

them,  you  know;  you  mustn't  expect  the  prizes 
of  your  profession  to  come  and  look  for  you." 

"You  don't  quite  grasp  the  position,"  he  ven- 
tured. "As  an  unknown  man,  I  might  spend 
years  'trying  for  a  good  part  in  a  first-class 
theatre'  without  getting  so  far  as  a  word  with  the 
manager.  If  I  didn't  accept  the  kind  of  thing 
that's  possible,  I  should  never  get  anything  at 
all." 

She  replied  by  a  reference  to  an  actor  who 
had  lately  made  a  successful  first  appearance  in 
London  after  twenty  years  of  struggle  and  pri- 
vation. "There's  a  new  young  man  just  'come 
out,'  "  she  said ;  "we  saw  him  the  other  night  and 
he's  excellent.  I  daresay  you  could  have  done 
it  just  as  well — he  looks  something  like  you;  he's 
quite  a  beginner,  I  had  never  heard  his  name 
before.  You  need  to  aim  higher,  Chris,  you  want 
more  pluck.  Of  course  you've  got  usf  and  we 
shall  always  be  very  glad  to  have  you  here — when 
we  can  put  you  up — but  I  should  like  to  see  you 
do  better  for  your  own  sake ;  I  am  sure  you'd  be 
happier  if  you  were  more  independent." 

Chicken  stuck  in  his  throat. 

"If  Uncle  George  can  still  give  me  a  berth, 
I'm  ready  to  go  into  the  City  to-morrow,"  he 
said  thickly. 

"Oh,  nonsense,  there's  no  occasion  to  do  any- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      19 

thing  impetuous  like  that  I  It  really  all  depends 
on  how  long — er — whether  your  prospects  im- 
prove or  not.  Of  course,  if  things  go  better  with 
you  soon,  well  and  good;  of  course  we're  quite 
ready  to  make  ourselves  responsible  for  your 
mother  altogether  while  you're  out  of  an  engage- 
ment, just  as  we've  always  been.  Only  you  ought 
to  bustle  as  much  as  you  can  and  not  let  the  grass 
grow  under  your  feet,  you  know!  Because  if 
you  do  have  to  give  up  your  profession  and  turn 
your  mind  to  other  things,  it'd  be  a  mistake  to 
begin  too  late.  You're  not  a  boy,  Chris,  and — 
er — naturally,  you'd  have  a  lot  to  learn  before 
you  could  hope  to  be  of  much  use  to  your  uncle. 
...  A  little  more?" 

Nor  did  he  want  any  cheese.  And  there  was 
no  grass  growing  under  his  feet  that  afternoon 
on  the  sloppy  pavements  of  the  Strand.  He  was 
bound  for  his  agent's.  He  spoke  of  Mr.  Albe- 
marle  as  his  "agent"  because  a  booking  fee  had 
been  paid  to  secure  Mr.  Albemarle's  interest. 
Mr.  Albemarle  did  not  speak  of  Tatham  as  his 
"client"  because  he  did  not  remember  Tatham's 
name.  A  narrow  staircase  led  to  a  sparsely  fur- 
nished apartment,  of  which  a  conspicuous  fea- 
ture was  a  vast  assortment  of  faded  photographs. 
There  were  photographs  of  sirens  being  arch  in 
musical  comedies,  of  heroines  being  distraught  ia 


,20      FHE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

dramas,  of  heroes  propping  brows  with  fore- 
fingers and  straining  violently  to  look  profound. 
A  goodly  number  of  the  originals  waited  in  atti- 
tudes of  despondence  on  the  forms  that  lined  the 
walls,  and  at  a  table  in  the  corner  a  young  woman 
with  dyed  hair,  piled  over  a  cheap  and  obvious 
frame,  was  clicking  a  typewriter. 

Tatham  discovered  space  to  sit  down,  and 
glanced  round  the  room  to  see  if  any  acquaint- 
ance was  present.  All  were  strangers  to  him. 
From  Kennington  and  Camberwell,  from  Brix- 
ton  and  East  Ham,  the  theatre  folk  had  jour- 
neyed, not  a  few  of  them  afoot,  in  the  prayer 
that  they  might  "hear  of  something."  They  had 
put  on  the  least  shabby  of  their  clothes  and  to 
Tatham's  eyes  the  women  looked  less  indigent 
than  the  men,  but  their  flowered  hats  and  flimsy 
smartness  shrieked  their  poverty  to  one  another. 
Many  of  the  crowd  had  spent  a  morning  of  de- 
jection "making  the  round"  of  the  agents'  offices. 
When  Mr.  Albemarle  failed  them,  they  would 
thread  their  way  along  the  crowded  Strand 
again — with  aching  feet,  and  empty  stomachs, 
and  affected  jauntiness,  hoping  to  the  last.  They 
might  meet  a  "pal  who  knew  of  something,"  or 
who  would,  at  least,  be  "good  for  a  glass  of 
bitter."  There  might  be  a  shady  manager  col- 
lecting a  new  company  in  the  public-houses; 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      21 

thieir  salaries  with  him  would  be  uncertain,  but 
even  to  take  a  risk  would  be  better  than  to  go 
back  with  no  news  at  all.  There  were  wives  and 
children  awaiting  the  return  to  Kennington  and 
Camberwell;  there  were  lodging-house  keepers 
clamorous  for  rent.  To-day  the  Strand  is  wider, 
but  the  progress  of  the  players  in  it  just  as  slow. 

It  was  four  o'clock  when  Tatham  was  at  last 
admitted  to  the  agent's  presence.  The  gentle- 
man was  occupied  at  a  desk.  He  had  a  silk  hat 
on  his  head,  and  a  long  cigar  in  his  mouth,  each 
at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees. 

"Well,  Mr.— er "  he  said  hurriedly,  "I'm 

afraid  I've  nothing  for  you  to-day;  things  are 
very  quiet  just  now." 

Never  had  Tatham  heard  him  say  anything 
more  optimistic  since  the  occasion  when  the  fee 
was  paid.  But  again  a  forlorn  effort  to  prolong 
the  scene  proved  useless. 

The  actor  went  slowly  out.  He  had  not  paid 
a  booking  fee  at  any  other  office;  he  was  not  in 
a  position  to  pay  one  now.  He  was  not  a  chorus 
girl ;  some  chorus  girls  were  able  to  secure  agents' 
interest  without  that  formality.  Blankly  he 
questioned,  as  he  had  questioned  on  the  same  spot 
a  score  of  times,  what  course  was  open.  He  felt 
weak,  futile,  and  contemptible  for  being  so,  yet 
what  could  he  do?  He  remembered  how,  despair- 


£2      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

ing  one  night  under  the  portico  of  a  theatre, 
where  an  ex-Society  woman  was  attracting  all 
London  by  her  beauty,  he  had  drooped  in  the 
glare  gazing  at  her  photographs  and  thinking 
she  must  be  compassionate.  He  remembered  how 
he  had  pencilled  on  his  card  an  appeal  for  a  min- 
ute's interview  and  sent  it  in  to  her,  and  how  he 
had  shrunk  from  a  scene-shifter's  eyes  as  the 
fellow  brought  him  her  curt  refusal.  "What 
could  he  do?"  At  the  foot  of  a  career  in  which, 
for  all  but  the  moneyed  and  the  influential,  the 
potent  factor  is  Chance,  he  could  do  nothing  but 
what  he  did,  possessing  his  soul  in  patience,  and 
in  his  uncle's  house.  And  every  evening  his 
uncle  asked,  "Well,  any  news?" 

So  six  weeks  went  by. 

"Well,  any  news?"  He  meant  it  kindly,  but 
his  guest  came  to  dread  the  return  from  the  City 
and  that  question. 

"No,  sir." 

"Humph!"    The  tone  conveyed  his  reflections. 

One  wet  afternoon,  when  Tatham,  having  gone 
down  from  Mr.  Albemarle's  office,  loitered  in 
the  shelter  of  the  street  door,  something  hap- 
pened. Nothing  sensational — Mr.  Albemarle 
came  down  too.  As  the  client  stood  wondering 
which  way  to  turn  next,  the  agent  brushed  past 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      fc* 

him,  and  loitered  also,  looking  to  right  and  left 
for  a  cab. 

"Rotten  weather !"  he  said  casually  to  Tatham. 

"Filthy,  isn't  it?"  said  Tatham.  "Will  you 
come  and  have  a  drink?" 

Now,  in  Mr.  Albemarle  the  proposal  of  a 
drink  aroused  no  such  rejoicing  as  it  inspired  in 
many  of  his  humbler  clients ;  he  could  afford  to 
drink  at  his  own  expense,  and  did  so  very  often, 
but  it  happened  that  at  the  moment  the  sugges- 
tion fell  pleasantly  on  his  ears.  All  the  same, 
he  hesitated.  Coming  from  the  lips  of  an  ob- 
scure young  "pro,"  the  invitation  was  either  a 
strange  "bit  of  luck"  or  a  piece  of  "infernal 
cheek."  He  looked  Tatham  in  the  face  before 
he  spoke. 

"I  don't  mind  if  I  do,"  he  said  graciously. 

So  lowly  is  the  path  to  histrionic  fame  that 
the  Varsity  man  was  conscious  of  appearing  to 
have  improved  his  position  as  he  entered  the 
Bodega  with  Mr.  Albemarle.  And,  indeed,  a 
dozen  loungers  there  regarded  him  curiously. 

"What'll  you  have?"  he  asked. 

"Mine's  the  usual,"  said  the  personage  to  the 
barman.  He  waved  a  condescending  hand  in 
several  directions.  "Things  are  very  quiet  just 
now,"  he  remarked,  forgetting  that  he  had  just 
delivered  his  stock  phrase  in  the  office. 


24      [THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"I  find  it  their  normal  state.  You  'think 
you'll  be  able  to  find  me  something  next  week/ 
do  you?" 

"What?"  Obviously  he  was  surprised,  but  he 
recovered  himself  in  an  instant.  "Oh,  I  dare- 
say. Always  drop  in  when  you're  passing,  that's 
the  best  way — always  pleased  to  see  you.  If 
anything  turns  up,  there  you  are!" 

"I've  been  dropping  in  for  eighteen  months. 
Nothing  has  turned  up  so  far.  My  name's 
Christopher  Tatham." 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Albemarle.  "I 
know  your  name  very  well.  I  can't  shop  every- 
body; there  aren't  enough  parts  to  go  round, 
Latham,  old  chap.  I'd  shop  the  whole  blessed 
profession,  if  I  could,  what  do  you  think? — it'd 
suit  me  all  right;  but  you  see  what  it  is,  there's 
too  many  at  the  game.  What's  your  line  ?" 

"I've  been  playing  character.  'Tatham,'  not 
'Latham'!" 

"I  remember  now — it  had  slipped  my  memory; 
just  for  the  moment."  The  barman  put  the 
glasses  on  the  counter.  "Here's  fortune!" 

"But  what  I  want  to  play  is  lead." 

"Lead.    Right!" 

"Do  you  think  you  could  manage  it  for  me?" 

"Do  I  think  I  could  manage  it?"  echoed  Mr. 
Albemarle.  He  looked  into  Tatham's  eyes  sig- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      25 

nificantly,  and  his  dramatic  pause  was  so  pro- 
tracted that  his  stare  became  embarrassing.  "Do 
I  think  I  could  manage  it?  No,  I  don't  'think/ 
Latham — I  know!" 

"That's  encouraging." 

"Who  made  Bernard  Leigh?"  The  query  was 
darted  aggressively.  "Who  made  Eric  Lati- 
mer?  Would  Billy  Hudson  be  where  he  is  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  me  ?"  Tatham  much  feared  he 
had  offended  him  for  ever.  "What  I  can't 
'manage'  ain't  worth  managing." 

"I  suppose  not." 

"Don't  worry."  After  all,  he  hadn't  been  of- 
fended— his  leer  was  supremely  reassuring.  It 
conveyed  a  secret  compact  between  himself  and 
Tatham,  was  charged  with  esoteric  confidences 
which,  though  Tatham  failed  to  understand  them, 
promised  to  flourish  master-keys  among  portals 
to  fame.  "Leading  men  with  the  right  appear- 
ance ain't  difficult  to  shop." 

The  next  instant,  with  appalling  swiftness,  he 
drained  his  whisky-and-soda  and  turned  to  go. 
Hope  swooned. 

"Have  another!" 

"What?  No,  no  more  .  .  .  well  one,  for 
luck!"  He  imbibed  the  second  leisurely,  but  dis- 
coursed without  a  break  on  the  abominable  in- 
gratitude that  he  had  experienced  at  the  hands 


26      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

of  theatrical  stars  who  owed  their  eminence  to 
his  services.  Suspensive,  Tatham  waited  for  a 
chance  to  interpose  a  question.  At  last,  when 
the  other  was  saying  "Hell,"  as  a  prelude  to  a 
further  reminiscence,  he  exclaimed : 

"You  know,  I'm  awfully  keen  on  getting 
something  at  once,  Mr.  Albemarle!  I've  got  to 
find  another  engagement  right  off.  Of  course 
the  money's  an  object — I  depend  on  the  profes- 
sion— but  I'm  not  standing  out  for  terms.  Now, 
how  soon  do  you  think  you  could  get  me  a  lead- 
ing part,  at,  say — well,  at  any  figure  at  all? 
Frankly!  You  can't  do  it  this  evening,  or  to- 
morrow morning,  but  give  me  an  idea  when  it 
might  be.  That's  not  asking  too  much,  is  it?" 

Something  in  the  appeal  went  home  to  Mr. 
Albemarle,  also  the  second  drink  was  human- 
ising him.  He  was  temporarily  truthful. 

"Look  here,"  he  said  familiarly,  "you  want  a 
shop,  don't  you?  What's  the  good  of  kidding 
about  'leading  business'?  What  you  want's  a  bit 
every  Saturday  morning  to  pay  your  way,  like 
everybody  else;  ain't  I  right?" 

"Perfectly  right,"  said  Tatham,  dismayed. 

"Very  well,  then!  you  know,  and  /  know  it's 
not  a  scrap  of  use  your  opening  your  mouth  too 
wide  and  calling  yourself  a  'leading  man.'  Jump 
at  whatever  you  can  get,  that's  my  advice  to  you. 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      27 

They're  sending  out  a  tour  from  the  Sceptre — 
get  round  there  to-morrow,  twelve  sharp.  Ask 
for  Mr.  Bailey.  Say  I  sent  you.  Mind,  I  can't 
promise  anything'll  come  of  it — you  won't  be 
the  only  one  on  the  spot,  but  it's  a  tip.  It's  a  big 
cast,  and  they  haven't  settled  for  any  of  the  small 
parts  yet." 

The  descent  from  the  prospect  seen  five  min- 
utes ago  was  steep,  and  the  cost  of  the  entertain- 
ment alarming — so  alarming  that  Tatham  deter- 
mined to  walk  to  Regent's  Park,  instead  of  tak- 
ing a  bus.  But  as  he  turned  down  Bedford 
Street  he  was  not  disconsolate.  There  was  at 
any  rate  a  chance  of  sorts. 


CHAPTER  III 

THERE  were  eighteen  parts  to  be  filled  for  the 
provincial  tour  of  the  play  at  the  Sceptre  The- 
atre, and  actors  and  actresses  desirous  of  filling 
them  were  informed  that  Mr.  Bailey  was  to  be 
found  in  the  business  manager's  office  upstairs. 
When  Tatham,  who  arrived  betimes,  explored 
the  quarter  indicated,  not  more  than  fifty  to 
sixty  applicants  sat  and  stood  about  the  landing, 
awaiting  admittance  to  the  room;  but  their  num- 
ber was  continuously  reinforced.  By  half -past 
one,  when  Mr.  Bailey,  having  disposed  of  other" 
matters,  proceeded  to  attack  the  task  before  him, 
the  staircase  had  become  impassable,  and  at  the 
foot,  groups  of  men  sat  morosely  on  the  ground. 

Behind  the  enamelled  door,  visible  only  to  the 
most  fortunate,  the  eagerly  sought  interviews 
seemed,  to  those  interviewed,  unpromisingly 
brief;  to  those  outside,  they  seemed  eternal,  and 
as  the  weary  hours  lagged  by,  several  girls  who 
could  find  no  space  to  sit,  clung  weakly  to  the 
banisters. 

It  was  Tatham's  turn  at  last. 

28 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      29 

One  girl's  limbs  felt  as  if  they  must  give  way ; 
she  screwed  up  the  courage: 

"Oh,  do  let  me  go  next!" 

"I  beg  your  pardon — certainly!" 

The  promptness  of  the  assent  amazed  her. 
She  turned  and  regarded  him  thankfully  as  he 
drew  back.  In  that  throng  of  wearied  mediocri- 
ties fighting  for  bread  in  an  overstocked  profes- 
sion, a  man  and  a  girl's  gaze  met  for  the  first 
time,  and  they  smiled  at  each  other. 

So,  although  he  had  no  idea  who  she  was, 
Tatham  trusted,  while  he  continued  to  stand 
there,  that  behind  the  enamelled  door  the  inter- 
view was  proving  satisfactory  to  her.  And  when 
she  came  out,  he  glanced  at  her  inquiringly.  Did 
she  shake  her  head?  he  wasn't  sure;  but  she  had 
made  her  meaning  clear.  "I'm  sorry,"  he  mur- 
mured as  she  passed. 

The  enamelled  door  opened  again  and  an 
underling  appeared  on  the  threshold.  He  said 
in  a  high-pitched  voice,  "Ladies  and  gentlemen 
are  not  to  wait,  please;  Mr.  Bailey  can't  see  any 
more !" 

Dismay  gripped  Tatham's  heart.  Courtesy 
may  cost  a  theatrical  engagement,  which  is  one 
of  the  reasons  why  there  is  no  superabundance 
of  it  in  the  theatrical  world. 

'A  murmur  of  consternation  swelled  over  the 


SO      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

landing;  from  the  landing  to  the  lowest  step  it 
travelled,  and  was  echoed  in  the  hall.  As  the 
girl  started  to  go  down,  the  packed  rows  of 
applicants  broke  into  disorder,  and  the  view  on 
the  staircase  was  a  jumble  of  dejected  backs. 
She  lingered  an  instant  for  Tatham  to  be  beside 
her. 

"I  hope  you  haven't  lost  anything  by  giving 
me  your  turn?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  suppose  so;  I  daresay  all  the 
men's  parts  were  settled  before  you  went  in." 
It  was  possible,  however,  that  none  was  settled, 
that  Mr.  Bailey  intended  to  make  his  selection 
later  among  the  men  who  had  had  the  luck  to  be 
seen. 

"It  was  awfully  kind  of  you." 

"It  was  nothing." 

She  was  very  young,  perhaps  no  more  than 
seventeen,  but  she  had  been  bred  in  a  calling  in 
which  few  girls  remain  bashful  long.  The  tone 
in  which  she  spoke  to  him  was  the  frank,  fa- 
miliar tone  of  a  young  woman  at  once  unac- 
quainted with  reserve,  and  well  accustomed  to 
take  care  of  herself;  the  gaze  she  raised  to  him, 
from  a  face  which  had  pink-and-white  youthful- 
ness  for  its  chief  charm,  was  steadily  unembar- 
rassed. When  she  represented  a  girl  of  her  own 
years  on  the  stage,  of  course,  she  comported  her- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      31 

self  with  more  juvenility  than  any  girl  of  seven- 
teen that  ever  lived,  for  it  is  a  theatrical  conven- 
tion that  girls  of  seventeen  caper  about  a  draw- 
ing-room as  if  they  were  seven,  but  she  crossed 
a  room  without  capering  in  real  life. 

He  was  good-looking,  and  his  depression  was 
manifest.  She  spoke  again: 

"I'm  most  awfully  grateful  to  you,  really!  I 
felt  as  if  I  couldn't  stand  it  another  second,  or 
I  wouldn't  have  had  the  cheek  to  ask  you." 

"It  wasn't  any  use  though,  eh?" 

"I  don't  think  so — he  took  my  name,  but  I 
don't  fancy  it'll  come  off.  Have  you  been  out 
long?" 

"About  six  weeks." 

"Oh,  that's  not  so  bad,"  she  said;  "I've  been 
doing  nothing  for  months.  What  were  you  with 
last?" 

He  told  her  the  title  of  the  melodrama  in  which 
he  had  toured  last,  and  wondered  if  he  could  add 
"Good-morning"  without  being  abrupt,  for  he 
was  in  no  humour  for  small-talk  with  a  stranger. 
But  evidently  her  fatigue  was  not  mental.  She 
continued  to  question  him;  and  their  passage  to 
the  street  was  of  necessity  slow.  On  the  pave- 
ment they  came  to  a  standstill  together. 

"What  shall  you  try  for  now?"  she  inquired. 


82      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"I've  no  idea.  Have  you  heard  of  anything 
else?" 

"No,  I  must  have  a  look  at  the  ads  in  to-day's 
^Floats.  I  haven't  seen  it  yet.'* 

His  distaste  for  her  companionship  was  pass- 
ing, even  it  had  already  passed.  He  foresaw 
that  he  would  feel  very  lonely  in  another  minute, 
as  he  moved  aimlessly  along;  the  girl's  interest 
in  his  prospects  was  not  unwelcome. 

"Z  haven't  seen  it,  either,"  he  said.  "There's 
a  newsagent's  round  the  corner — let's  go  and 
get  a  copy." 

And  then  the  girl  did  a  happy  thing — she  ex- 
claimed "Come  on,"  and  laughed.  Precisely  at 
what  she  laughed  she  didn't  know,  but  on  a  sud- 
den his  spirits  rose,  and  he  liked  her. 

His  spirits  dropped  when  snow  began  to  fall, 
for  the  purchase  of  Floats  had  left  him  with  five- 
pence  for  his  capital  and  he  could  not  take  her 
into  a  confectioner's.  They  sought  employment, 
studying  the  advertisement  columns  together,  in 
the  sheltered  quietude  of  a  mews.  Because  he 
was  an  impecunious  gentleman  he  was  humiliated 
at  having  to  shelter  her  there.  Because  she  was 
a  little  mummer  in  the  rank  and  file  of  "the  pro- 
fession" she  was  admiringly  surprised  by  his 
humiliation. 

"I  think  it  was  very  generous  of  you  to  buy 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      33 

the  paper,"  she  said;  "you  might  have  seen  it  in 
a  bar  and  had  a  drink  for  the  money.  .  .  . 
What's  there  funny  about  it?  Go  on,  now,  find 
something  useful,  do! — this  won't  buy  the  baby 
a  frock." 

"Well,  here's  something,"  he  announced. 
"'WANTED,  to  rehearse  next  week,  Full  Com- 
pany (with  exceptions).  To  reliable  artistes 
very  long  tour  assured/  What  do  you  say  to 
that?" 

"It's  the  best  of  them  yet.  Let  me  look; 
where's  one  to  write?  Oh,  'Call'!  Where  is  it? 
'20  Thackeray  Gardens,  Clapham  Junction. 
Three  to  six.'  Thackeray  was  an  author,  that's 
where  they  got  that  name  from.  What  time  is 
it  now?" 

He  glanced  at  his  watch.  "Nearly  five.  I  say, 
you  must  be  starving!" 

"No,  I'm  not;  I  took  a  sandwich  with  me — 
I  knew  what  it'd  be.  Oh,  well,  it's  no  good  my 
going  to  Clapham." 

"Why?" 

"I  couldn't  get  there  soon  enough." 

"It  won't  take  you  any  longer  to  get  there 
than  it  takes  me." 

"I  haven't  enough  money  in  my  purse.  I 
should  have  to  go  home  first  and  borrow  it  from 


mother — it's  too  far;  we're  in  diggings  at  Net- 
ting Hill." 

They  considered  ruefully.  A  brougham  swung 
round  the  mews,  and  startled  them  backwards 
into  a  puddle. 

"Fivepence  won't  do  it,  I  suppose?"  said 
Tatham,  looking  at  his  boot. 

"I  don't  know;  I  forget.  Anyhow,  it'll  be  a 
tinpot  sort  of  show.  I'm  not  sure  that  it's  good 
enough." 

"Any  show  for  me"  he  said.  "I'll  tell  you 
what " 

"Well,  you  can  go,  of  course;  fivepence'll  be 
enough  for  one." 

"I'll  tell  you  what:  let's  hurry  up  and  find  a 
pawnbroker's,  and  I'll  pop  my  watch." 

"As  if  I'd  let  you — just  to  pay  my  fare!" 

"Well,  why  shouldn't  I?" 

"It  isn't  likely.    Popping  your  watch  for  me !" 

"I  should  have  to  pop  it  for  myself  to-morrow. 
•Come  on,  there's  a  good  girl,  don't  waste  time! 
Look  here,  if  you  don't  go,  I  shan't  go,  either. 
That's  a  fact.  I  mean  it."  He  stood  looking  in 
her  eyes  until  she  smiled.  Her  smile  lit  her  face 
very  prettily. 

"You  are  3  nice  boy,"  she  said. 

She  did  indeed  think  him  very  nice,  and  when 
they  had  found  a  pawnshop  and  she  waited  for 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      35 

him  outside,  the  pleasing  fancy  crossed  her  mind 
that  it  was  "almost  as  if  they  were  married." 

"How  much  did  they  lend  you  on  it?"  she 
asked  when  he  came  back.  A  new  authority 
was  in  her  tone. 

"Thirty-five  shillings." 
"My!    It  must  have  been  a  fine  watch." 
"Don't  speak  of  it  in  the  past;  I  hope  to  see 
it  again,"  he  said.     "Which  is  our  way — we  go 
from  Victoria,  don't  we?    We'd  better  take  a  bus 
from  Charing  Cross." 

"You  haven't  told  me  your  name?" 
"Christopher  Tatham.    What's  yours?" 
"Peggy  Harper.     I  knew  a  'Chris'  once;  he 
was  a  ventriloquist,"  she  observed.    "This  is  my 
card." 

The  card  told  him  no  more  than  the  name  that 
she  had  already  communicated;  the  passion  of 
ladies  in  the  lower  ranks  of  his  profession  for 
distributing  their  printed  cards  at  every  oppor- 
tunity surprised  him  again  after  she  had  paused 
among  the  crowd,  to  rummage  in  a  pocket  that 
took  a  long  time  to  discover. 

The  presence  of  the  other  passengers  did  not 
constrain  her  on  the  journey,  and  he  found  it 
agreeable  enough — far  pleasanter  than  if  he  had 
been  alone.  It  was  not  unamusing  to  wander 
among  mean  streets,  inquiring  for  Thackeray 


36      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

Gardens  with  a  happy-go-lucky  girl  who  said, 
"I  daresay  we  shall  have  come  out  here  for  noth- 
ing, after  all,"  and  laughed,  as  if  coming  to 
Clapham  for  nothing  would  he  a  capital  joke. 
It  was  fun  to  wait  with  her  in  the  unprepossess- 
ing parlour  of  a  lodging-house  and  hear  her 
whisper,  with  a  peremptory  nod  as  the  door-knob 
turned,  "You  speak  first!" 

The  advertiser — who,  it  transpired,  called 
himself  Armytage — was  evidently  attired  for 
the  occasion.  He  wore  a  frock-coat,  in  combina- 
tion with  a  summer  waistcoat,  much  crumpled, 
and  the  trousers  of  a  tweed  suit.  A  garnet  pin 
ornamented  the  wrong  portion  of  a  made-up  tie. 
Early  in  the  interview  he  confessed,  with  a  lugu- 
brious shake  of  the  head,  that  long  as  he  had 
been  in  management,  he  had  not  realised  until 
this  afternoon  what  a  multitude  of  actors  and 
actresses  were  out  of  work.  The  overture 
sounded  unpromising,  but  it  appeared  by  the 
light  of  his  later  remarks  that  vacancies  might 
possibly  remain  in  the  company  for  just  such 
"artistes"  as  Tatham  and  Miss  Harper.  His  in- 
tention was  to  open  in  three  weeks'  time  at  Sweet- 
bay,  he  informed  them,  and  "the  money,  though 
small,  was  sure."  Figures  revealed  it  to  be  small 
indeed.  On  taking  a  note  of  their  references  and 
addresses,  he  was  plainly  impressed  by  a  terrace 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      37 

In  Regent's  Park  and  regarded  Tatham  with 
new  interest. 

"I  suppose  you  could  dress  the  part,"  he  said 
— "got  a  classy  modern  wardrobe?" 

"I've  got  clothes,  yes,"  said  Tatham.  He 
hoped  with  increased  force  that  the  part  was  a 
good  one,  since  his  mother  would  see  him  in  it. 

'  'Dress  well,  on  and  off,'  I  make  it  a  rule ; 
it  pays  for  actors  to  look  like  gentlemen.  And 
what  about  you,  my  dear — frocks  all  right?" 

"Oh,  I  should  do  you  credit!"  said  the  girl 
flippantly.  Tatham  envied  her  professional  self- 
possession. 

Mr.  Armytage  repeated  that  they  might  hear 
from  him  in  two  or  three  days,  and  the  "artistes" 
left  the  villa  thoughtfully. 

"He  sounds  like  a  humbug,"  said  Tatham, 
"doesn't  he?" 

"He  doesn't  sound  up  to  much,"  she  assented. 
"It'll  be  a  rotten  show,  of  course.  Frocks?  I'd 
fake  up  any  old  rag  and  be  good  enough  for  his 
crowd.  But  the  money  may  be  safe  with  him — 
you  can't  go  by  manner;  the  bogus  people  often 
sound  the  best.  I  shan't  take  it  if  anything  else 
comes  along  in  the  meantime,  but  he  may  be  all 
right.  He's  one  of  the  old  school — never  been 
to  school;  but  I  was  in  panto  with  a  manager 
who  might  have  been  his  twin  brother,  and  we 


38      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

got  paid  every  Saturday  morning  as  right  as 
rain.  Goodness !  a  lot  of  the  men  who  leave  you 
stranded  might  be  Johnnies  from  Oxford  and 
Cambridge,  by  their  clothes  and  the  way  they 
talk.  Education  don't  make  people  straight; 
some  of  the  biggest  bounders  in  the  profession 
used  to  be  swells  before  they  went  on  the  stage. 
I  expect  you'll  change — the  profession  changes 
everybody." 

"Thank  you,"  he  said. 

"Well,  you  will!  it's  sure  to  spoil  you — you 
won't  keep  like  you  are  now;  you  can't!" 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  they  never  do." 

"But  why  not?" 

She  reflected.  "Well,  if  fellows  behave  like 
cads  anywhere  else  they  get  cold-shouldered,  you 
see,  and  in  the  profession  they  don't.  I  suppose 
it  tempts  them  to  be  crooked,  when  they  know 
they  won't  be  thought  any  the  worse  of  for  it. 
I  say,  this  isn't  the  way  to  the  station — where 
are  you  going?" 

"We're  going  to  have  something  to  eat,"  said 
Tatham.  "Do  you  think  it's  too  soon?" 

Her  eyes  widened  at  him,  almost  pathetically, 
and  then  she  broke  into  a  laugh  again ;  there  was 
a  note  of  hysteria  in  the  laugh  this  time. 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      39 

"When  I'm  a  star,  I'll  find  out  where  you  are 
and  get  you  a  swagger  engagement!" 

"I  wonder?" 

"Look  here!"  Her  voice  was  sharp,  and  she 
stopped  short  under  a  gas  lamp.  "I  never  for- 
get a  pal." 

"I  was  only  joking." 

"Well,  I  wasn't.  You've  been  a  brick.  I'd 
do  things  for  you  if  I  ever  got  the  chance.  .  .  . 
But  I  never  shall,  not  at  this  business,  anyhow!" 

"Don't  you  think  you'll  ever  be  a  star,  then?" 

"What,  me?" 

"Why  shouldn't  you?" 

"I'd  give  up  the  stage  to-morrow  if  I'd  got 
anything  else  to  do.  I'd  never  have  gone  on  it 
if  I'd  had  my  way.  What  did  you  take  to  it 
for?" 

"I  love  it." 

"You  don't?" 

"Oh,  I  do— really!" 

"Well,  I  am  astonished,"  she  said.  "I  should 
have  thought  you  were  ever  so  much  too  clever 
for  that.  Whatever  do  you  love  about  it?  I 
think  it's  a  rotten  business." 

"It's  a  rotten  business  as  one  is  now,  but  if 
one  gets  on,  it  may  be  a  great  art." 

The  word  "art"  evidently  conveyed  little  to 
her  mind;  her  voice  was  puzzled.  ffl  don't  see 


40      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

anything  in  it.  Of  course,  I'd  like  big  money, 
but  I'd  much  rather  get  it  without  having  to  act. 
I  think  acting's  silly.  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
be  expected  to  laugh,  and  cry,  and  carry  on  in 
a  part,  just  as  if  it  was  all  real." 

"You  have  to  feel  as  if  it  were  all  real  while 
you're  studying  the  lines — you  have  to  ask  your- 
self just  how  you  would  say  it  all  if  it  were  some- 
thing happening  in  your  own  life." 

"Oh,  my  word!"  she  exclaimed  protestingly. 
Her  attention  wandered.  "The  shops  about  here 
don't  come  up  to  the  West  End  ones,  do  they? 
They're  much  better  than  this  about  Netting 
Hill." 

They  had  dinner  in  a  shabby  little  Italian  place 
— half  restaurant,  half  cake-shop — where  they 
were  the  only  customers.  Soup  and  a  fillet,  both 
very  indifferent,  with  stale  chocolate  eclairs  to 
follow,  seemed  to  her  epicurean,  and  she  pro- 
nounced the  fried  potatoes  "a  long  way  better 
than  what  you  got  with  pen'orths  of  fried  fish." 
The  gratification  of  her  appetite,  even  more,  the 
novelty  of  being  entertained,  exhilarated  her  ex- 
ceedingly, and  she  had  felt  a  pleasurable  sense 
of  unfamiliar  dignity  in  seeing  a  bottle  of  beer 
opened  for  her  by  a  shuffling  waiter. 

It  was  past  eight  when  Tatham  wished  her 
good-night,  after  lending  her  the  coppers  to  take 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      41 

her  home.  The  lateness  of  his  return  to  Regent's 
Park  had  raised  expectations,  and  he  was  greeted 
with  a  chorus  of  "Well?"  A  detailed  account  of 
the  day's  doings,  he  thought,  was  likely  to  be  ill 
received,  and  he  dwelt  much  more  upon  his  inter- 
view at  Clapham  than  upon  his  disappointment 
at  the  Sceptre.  He  could  not,  however,  avoid 
creating  the  impression  that  he  had  presented 
himself  at  the  theatre  tardily,  and  more  than 
ever  he  was  conscious  that  patience  with  his 
career  was  moribund.  This  time  next  month, 
would  he  be  an  actor  or  a  clerk?  Instinct  pro- 
claimed that  his  fate  was  in  the  unwashed  hands 
of  Mr.  Armytage. 


CHAPTER  IV; 

ONE  of  the  drawing-room  windows  permitted 
the  anxious  to  view  an  exasperating  postman  for 
nearly  five  minutes  before  he  readied  No.  12. 
During  the  next  four  days  Tatham  spent  much 
of  his  time  at  that  window.  In  a  letter  to  his 
mother  he  had  mentioned  that  there  was  a  pros- 
pect of  his  going  to  Sweetbay,  and  the  widow 
had  already  replied,  "supposing  that  by  now  the 
engagement  was  settled."  Experience  had  sup- 
plied no  grounds  for  her  supposition,  but  her 
optimism — or  the  carelessness  with  which  she  had 
read  his  letter — would  make  it  additionally  dis- 
tasteful to  him  to  have  to  say  he  could  not  go. 
And  the  postman  had  a  letter  for  every  house 
in  the  terrace  excepting  No.  12. 

Then,  when  Tatham  wasn't  watching,  and 
hadn't  heard  any  knock  at  the  street  door,  the 
parlourmaid  unconcernedly  handed  a  bulky  en- 
velope to  him.  A  part  was  inside — he  was  en- 
gaged! He  had  never  seen  the  play;  had  no 
idea  whether  the  part  was  good — was  for  the 
present  too  much  excited  to  do  more  than  whip 

42 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      43 

over  the  pages  to  ascertain  whether  it  was  long 
or  short;  but  thanksgiving  throbbed  in  him — he 
was  engaged! 

"It's  come!"  he  announced  rapturously  to  his 
aunt.  And  to-day  he  looked  forward  to  his 
Uncle  George's  return  from  the  City  and  the 
question,  "Any  news?" 

Was  Miss  Peggy  Harper  engaged  too?  he 
wondered. 

In  an  unfurnished  room  over  a  public-house, 
where  the  rehearsals  were  conducted,  it  became 
evident  to  him  that  she  was  not.  Among  the 
dreary-faced  women  and  disreputable-looking 
men  who  mumbled  and  moved  about  the  room 
under  Mr.  Armytage's  direction,  no  Miss  Har- 
per appeared.  Tatham  regretted  her  absence, 
for  in  the  environment  in  which  he  found  him- 
self the  arrival  of  almost  any  acquaintance  would 
have  been  welcome.  With  a  single  exception,  he 
saw  that  the  "artistes"  around  him  represented 
the  lowest  grade  of  the  theatrical  world,  and 
there  recurred  to  him  distressingly  that  sense  of 
shame  which  had  been  one  of  his  earliest  experi- 
ences in  his  profession. 

The  exception  referred  to  was  a  smartly- 
dressed  youth  of  about  nineteen,  who,  by  his 
clothes  and  unfamiliarity  with  stage  "business," 
excited  many  humorous  winks  among  the  other 


A4>      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

men.  He  was,  plainly,  embarrassed  and  un- 
happy, and  since  the  premium  demanded  of  him 
had  been  paid  and  the  cheque  swiftly  cashed,  the 
manager  was  at  no  pains  to  afford  encourage- 
ment. 

"Now  then,  you!"  he  bawled,  "don't  you  know 
there's  supposed  to  be  a  window  there?  Are  you 
going  to  walk  through  a  third-floor  window  at 
night?  We  want  actors,  not  acrobats.  Hi, 
Lonsdale!"  The  youth,  with  the  co-operation 
of  his  sisters,  had  selected  the  name  of  "Vernon 
Lonsdale."  He  had  grown  his  hair  long,  and 
they  had  pictured  him  in  romantic  situations, 
looking  like  Kyrle  Bellew.  Just  now  he  looked 
like  sacrificing  his  premium. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  stammered;  "I  didn't 
know  where  the  window  was  meant  to  be."  He 
hurriedly  advanced,  and  stood,  with  pale  cheeks, 
awaiting  his  next  cue. 

A  melancholy  female  read  indistinctly  from 
her  part  some  lines  that  concluded  with  the  word 
"menace."  She  pronounced  it  to  rhyme  with 
"grimace,"  and  the  youth,  not  recognising  her 
intention,  remained  mute. 

"Go  on,  my  boy,"  roared  Armytage;  "why 
the  hell  don't  you  go  on?" 

"I  haven't  had  my  cue,"  said  the  youth  resent- 
fully. 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      45 

"Show  me  your  part,"  commanded  Armytage. 
'There  you  are,  it's  in  your  part  right  enough — 


"Oh,  'menace'  ?"  said  the  youth. 

"What's  that — what  d'ye  call  it,  my  boy? 
'Menace"?  Rats!  That's  extant,  that's  alto- 
gether extant."  He  evidently  relished  his  dis- 
covery of  "extant,"  which  he  seemed  to  believe 
was  a  scholarly  synonym  for  "out  of  date."  He 
looked  round  for  Tatham.  "Isn't  'raewace'  ex- 
tant, eh?"  he  inquired. 

"Quite,"  said  Tatham.  His  gaze  met  the  dis- 
comfited youth's  with  a  twinkle. 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  the  manager.  "And 
even  if  it  wasn't,  'menace'  is  more  dramatic.  Go 
on,  young  feller,  my  lad,  we  can't  spend  the  day 
here  teaching  you  the  ABC,  you  know!" 

Tatham,  recognising  the  school  into  which  he 
had  fallen,  sat  resolved  to  declaim  his  lines  in 
the  most  melodramatic  fashion  of  which  he  was 
capable  when  his  turn  came ;  but,  even  so,  he  was 
not  at  the  outset  unnatural  enough.  Intense  de- 
jection weighed  upon  him  as  he  laid  intelligence 
upon  the  altar  of  expediency.  The  art  of  acting 
itself  tottered  on  the  pedestal  of  his  enthusiasm, 
and  miserably  he  questioned  whether  his  dignity 
was  any  higher  than  a  performer's  who  stuffed 
flaming  tow  into  his  mouth  in  a  road. 


46      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

Pity  for  young  Lonsdale  depressed  him,  too, 
as  from  day  to  day  he  beheld  the  youth  jeered 
at  and  bullied.  He  was  not  a  brilliant  youth ;  it 
was  difficult  to  credit  him  with  enough  capacity 
to  make  his  way  in  any  walk  of  life ;  but  his  nu- 
merous suits  of  clothes  suggested  that  he  might 
have  squandered  as  much  as  fifty  pounds  to  se- 
cure a  professional  debut  on  the  stage,  and  the 
sum  at  least  entitled  him  to  civility. 

"It's  very  different  to  what  I  thought  it  was 
going  to  be,"  he  complained  to  Tatham,  in  a  girl- 
ish voice ;  "he  was  awfully  polite  when  I  saw  him 
at  Clapham.  And  he  said  it  was  a  good  part. 
I  don't  call  it  a  good  part,  do  you?  There's  only 
that  little  pathetic  bit  in  the  third  act  that  I  take 
any  interest  in." 

"There  isn't  a  good  part  in  the  piece,"  an- 
swered Tatham. 

"Oh,  don't  you  think  so?  I  think  some  of 
them  are  all  right.  Only  the  people  are  so  com- 
mon; they're  an  awfully  low  lot,  aren't  they? 
No,  I  don't  call  it  at  all  a  good  part  now,  except- 
ing for  that  little  pathetic  bit  in  the  third  act. 
It  looked  all  right  when  I  read  it  at  home,  but  it 
seems  so  different  at  rehearsal — I'm  always  be- 
ing bundled  about;  when  I  do  come  to  a  speech, 
somebody  cuts  in  before  I've  got  the  last  word 
out.  Don't  you  know  what  I  mean?" 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      4T| 

"Yes,  I  know  very  well.  He  cuts  in  to  pre- 
vent you  getting  any  applause.  That's  the  rea* 
son  for  that." 

"Oh,  I  say!  I  say,  but  that's  awfully  mean, 
isn't  it?  I  didn't  think  actors  did  that  sort  of 
thing.  I  wonder  it's  allowed." 

"It  isn't  allowed  by  people  who're  in  a  position 
to  stand  up  for  their  rights.  Beginners  have  got 
to  grin  and  bear  it,  if  the  manager  doesn't  inter- 
fere." 

"Oh,  I  shouldn't  like  to  complain!  They'd  be 
so  rude,  wouldn't  they?" 

"Yes,  they'd  be  very  rude,"  said  Tatham. 
"I'm  not  complaining,  either — what  does  it  mat- 
ter, anyhow,  in  a  thing  like  this?  The  person 
who  hasn't  shaved  for  a  week  is  going  to  spoil 
my  best  scene  for  me;  he  thinks  I  don't  know 
enough  to  understand  that  he's  trying  to  spoil  it, 
but  I  do." 

"I  never  hear  him  cut  you  short,"  said  Lons- 
dale  enviously. 

"No,  he  can't  break  in  very  often,  but  he  keeps 
getting  further  behind  me  at  every  rehearsal — 
in  the  theatre  I  shall  have  to  turn  my  back  to 
the  audience  all  the  time  I  talk  to  him,  and  that'll 
make  him  look  the  chief  figure  in  the  scene,  al- 
though he  isn't  meant  to  be." 

"Will  it,  really?    Why  should  it?    He  must 


be  an  awfully  vain  brute,  mustn't  he?  Well,  one 
thing!"  he  laughed  gleefully;  "that  beast  of  a 
comedian  can't  try  the  same  dodge  on  me,  with 
my  little  pathetic  bit  in  the  third  act,  for  he's  got 
to  be  sitting  down,  writing  a  letter,  while  I  say 
it." 

The  journey  to  Sweetbay  was  made  on  a  Sun- 
day morning;  the  heterogeneous  garments  that 
they  donned  for  travelling  gave  to  the  company 
an  appearance  even  more  repellent  than  they 
presented  in  the  public-house.  The  train  reached 
the  prim  little  watering-place  at  the  hour  when 
many  of  the  residents  passed  the  station  on  their 
return  from  church ;  and  as  the  players,  burdened 
with  strange  hand-luggage,  straggled  into  their 
midst,  Tatham  heard  young  Lonsdale  panting 
behind  him. 

"I  say!"  exclaimed  the  boy — his  face  was 
aghast — "this  is  awful,  isn't  it?  Why  on  earth 
don't  they  have  any  cabs  here?" 

Tatham  was  execrating  it,  too.  "I  suppose 
nobody  arrives  in  the  place  on  Sunday,  excepting 
us.  But  I  can't  afford  cabs,  myself.  Where  are 
you  going  to  stay?  have  you  arranged  any- 
where?" 

Like  Tatham,  the  tyro  had  still  to  discover 
apartments,  and  it  appeared  that  he  meant  to 
seek  them  on  the  Parade.  Tatham  reflected.  It 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      49 

did  not  concern  him,  but  the  lad  seemed  pathetic 
in  his  ignorance. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "I  don't  want  to  meddle, 
but  I'm  afraid  you'll  find  it  very  expensive  if 
you  hang  out  in  first-class  diggings  on  a  tour  like 
this.  I  don't  mean  just  the  rent;  I'm  afraid 
you'll  find  it  comes  very  dear  in  other  ways — 
you'll  be  a  'mark'  for  all  the  men  in  the  crowd 
to  borrow  money  from.  I  expect  they'll  be 
cadging  from  you  anyhow — 'pressing,'  they  call 
it — but  if  they  hear  of  your  lolling  on  balconies 
on  Parades,  you'll  be  preyed  upon  frightfully; 
they'll  ask  you  for  half-sovereigns." 

"I  say!"  said  Lonsdale.  He  put  two  and  two 
together.  "You  think  they  guess  it's  my  first 
engagement  ?" 

"Yes,  I  think  they  divine  it,"  said  Tatham. 
"If  you  take  my  advice,  you'll  stay  in  the  same 
sort  of  lodgings  as  everybody  else.  You  needn't 
have  a  bedroom  and  parlour  combined,  of  course, 
but  I  should  keep  to  the  professional  addresses, 
if  I  were  you." 

"Thanks,"  said  the  boy.  "I'm  much  obliged 
to  you ;  it's  awfully  decent  of  you  to  give  me  the 
tip."  He  sighed.  "It  is  different  to  what  I 
thought  it'd  be.  And  the  girls!  I  always 
thought  actresses  were  pretty — why,  I  never  saw 
such  a  crew  in  my  lifel" 


At  this  moment,  among  the  returning  congre- 
gation, an  elderly  lady  approached,  in  her  Sun- 
day costume,  her  eyebrows  protesting  against  the 
troop  of  vulgar  travellers  that  profaned  the 
pavements.  Tatham  saw,  confused,  that  the  lady 
was  his  mother.  She  recognised  her  son  almost 
at  the  same  instant,  and  with  pretended  pleasure, 
which  ill  concealed  dismay,  stopped  short  to  wel- 
come him. 

"Why,  Chris?"  she  faltered.  Lonsdale  pro- 
ceeded alone,  in  the  wake  of  the  heavy  man  and 
the  low  comedian,  and  her  perturbed  glance  fol- 
lowed them.  "Do  those  people  belong  to  your 
company?" 

"The  young  one's  right  enough,"  declared 
Tatham,  momentarily  vain  of  Lonsdale.  "Well, 
how  are  you,  mother?" 

"Oh,  I'm  first-rate.  Couldn't  you  have  left 
your  portmanteau  at  the  station?  One  never 
sees  anybody  carrying  luggage  about  on  Sunday 
in  Sweetbay." 

"Well,  you  see,  a  lot  of  the  things  that  are  in 
it  I  shall  want  to-night.  Of  course,  the  arrival 
isn't  pleasant;  it  never  is.  We  don't  always  get 
in  at  church  time,  though,  thank  goodness! 
Well,  tell  me,  is  the  boarding-house  still  all 
right?  I  was  coming  to  see  you  this  afternoon." 

"Yes,  do!    Oh  yes,  there  are  one  or  two  very 


51 

smart  people  there.  Let's  move  round  the  cor- 
ner, Chris,  we  look  so  bad  standing  here!  Yes, 
we've  quite  nice  people — an  army  man  and  his 
wife,  you'll  see  them  when  you  come.  We  play 
bridge  in  the  evening.  Don't  say  what  you're 
doing  here — I  shouldn't  like  them  to  know  you're 
on  the  stage.  I  lost  fourteen-and-sixpence  the 
other  week.  Nearly  'broke'  me!"  She  tittered, 
as  at  an  incident  of  a  humorous  nature.  "Had 
to  write  to  the  Spauldings."  A  titter  announced 
this  to  be  funnier  still.  "Said  I  wanted  new 
boots.  They  sent  me  a  sovereign — I  was  saved  1" 
The  mirth  fulness  of  the  recital  overwhelmed  her. 

He  perceived,  with  mixed  emotions,  that  her 
removal  had  invigorated  his  mother,  mentally  at 
least.  The  humiliated  pensioner  that  he  remem- 
bered in  Dalston  had  become  accustomed  to  de- 
pendence, and  even  callous  to  it. 

"Perhaps  somebody'll  see  my  name  on  the 
playbills,"  he  warned  her. 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  so;  we  don't  take  much 
notice  of  the  theatre  here;  only  rubbish  comes 
down.  Anyhow,  I  shan't  say  anything  about  it 
unless  they  ask  me.  Well,  I  mustn't  wait!  we 
have  luncheon  at  one  o'clock — we  have  luncheon 
on  Sundays,  too;  we  dine  late  on  Sundays,  just 
the  same  as  any  other  day  there!  It's  not  at  all 
like  an  ordinary  boarding  house ;  they  don't  take 


m      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

everybody,  Mrs.  Harrington's  very  particular 
who  she  takes.  Then  you'll  be  round  about  half- 
past  four?  Make  yourself  look  as  nice  as  you 
can.  Put  on  the  best  suit  you've  got,  Chris.  I 
hope  none  of  them'll  see  you  carrying  your  port- 
manteau. Wasn't  there  a  cab  in  the  yard?  I 
wonder  you  don't  jump  into  a  cab  for  a  shilling." 

A  shilling!  It  had  often  been  a  strain  on  his 
finances  to  buy  a  penny  postage  stamp  for  the 
letter  that  contained  his  remittance  to  her. 

He  continued  his  way  thoughtfully.  The 
current  issue  of  Floats,  seen  in  London,  had  in- 
formed him  in  which  streets  the  few  theatrical 
apartment -houses  of  Sweetbay  were  situated,  and 
when  he  had  found  a  "combined  room,"  he  was 
provided  with  a  cut  from  the  landlady's  joint. 
Well,  after  what  his  mother  had  said,  it  was  to 
be  presumed  that  she  would  not  go  to  see  his 
performance.  He  would  be  much  relieved  if 
she  didn't,  yet  he  was  hurt  that  she  did  not  wish 
to  do  so.  As  he  smoked  a  pipe  he  was  conscious 
that  the  eagerness  with  which  he  had  anticipated 
his  visit  to  her  had  subsided;  and,  when  at  half- 
past  four  he  paid  it,  he  found  himself  increas- 
ingly dull. 

It  served,  however,  to  confirm  his  conjecture 
that  the  lady's  presence  at  the  theatre  was  not 
to  be  feared ;  she  explained  that  a  matinee  always 


gave  her  a  headache,  and  that  "of  course,  she 
couldn't  sit  in  a  theatre  alone  at  night."  Besides, 
her  going  would  "be  sure  to  cause  a  lot  of  talk 
about  the  piece,  and  somebody  might  have  the 
curiosity  to  look  at  the  cast."  She  thought  it 
was  "much  safer  for  her  to  keep  away." 

"Oh,  and,  Chris,"  she  said,  before  the  alleged 
army  man  and  his  nondescript  wife  appeared,  to 
make  painful  persiflage  over  pale  tea,  "don't 
say  you're  stopping  here,  say  you're  going  back 
to  town  this  evening!  See?  If  Mrs.  Harrington 
heard  you  were  here  for  a  week,  she'd  want  to 
know  where  you  were  staying,  and  I  shouldn't 
like  her  to  know  you  were  doing  it  on  the  cheap." 

He  was  struggling  for  advancement  on-  a 
squalid  plane  of  an  unpromising  vocation,  and 
perhaps  was  a  fool  to  have  chosen  it;  but  very 
often  he  had  struggled  unfed  that  his  mother 
might  receive  the  expected  pound  intact,  and  he 
winced  to  know  she  was  ashamed  of  him. 

Next  night  he  was  ashamed  of  himself;  he 
rejoiced  that  she  had  not  come  to  witness  his 
ignominy  among  these  barn-stormers.  Again, 
they  made  him  marvel.  They  blasphemed,  in  the 
wings,  at  the  coldness  of  the  public,  they  cursed 
the  limitations  of  the  stage,  they  anathematised 
the  blunders  of  the  limelight  man ;  but  that  they 
were  figuring  in  a  preposterous  play,  in  a  man- 


54t      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

ner  that  was  devoid  of  talent,  or  intelligence,  or 
a  single  virtue,  they  were  blankly  and  compla- 
cently unaware. 

Only  young  Lonsdale  had  adverse  criticism 
to  utter  upon  a  performance ;  Tatham  was  alone 
with  him  for  a  few  minutes  when  the  other  men 
had  hurried  to  the  bars.  "I  say,"  wailed  the 
debutant — tears  stood  in  his  eyes — "my  little 
pathetic  bit  in  the  third  act!  I  don't  see  how 
I'm  ever  going  to  make  a  name  like  this.  That 
beast  of  a  low  comedian — he  drank  out  of  the 
inkpot  instead  of  the  glass,  he  carried  on  like  a 
clown  while  I  was  speaking!  That  little  pathetic 
bit  of  mine  in  the  third  act  was  the  only  time  the 
audience  laughed." 

But  when  Saturday  came,  after  five  unprofit- 
able nights,  the  greenhorn  of  the  company  was 
the  member  least  disturbed.  Grouped  on  the 
stage  of  the  Theatre  Royal,  Sweetbay,  the  barn- 
stormers waited  for  Mr.  Armytage  to  appear 
with  their  salaries.  The  gentleman  was  due  at 
noon.  At  a  quarter  to  one  they  stood  waiting 
still,  and  comments  had  ceased.  When  the  hour 
struck,  the  faces  of  the  crowd  were  blanched; 
everybody  looked  much  older. 

Upon  the  matinee  announced  to  commence  at 
2.30,  the  curtain  did  not  rise.  Few  local  play- 
goers were  disappointed.  Then  it  was  common 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      55 

knowledge  that  Mr.  Armytage  had  been  ob- 
served departing  from  Sweetbay  by  a  very  early 
train,  among  the  milk-churns.  When  he  adver- 
tised for  his  next  band  of  victims,  his  name  would 
not  be  "Armytage." 

Yes,  the  greenhorn  was  the  member  of  the 
company  least  disturbed,  for  though  he  had  lost 
his  premium,  he  had  lost  his  eagerness — at  any, 
rate,  to  be  associated  with  a  troupe  like  this  one ; 
and  he,  alone  among  the  "artistes,"  was  un- 
harassed  by  the  problem  of  ways  and  means. 

Tatham  was  stunned  by  it.  From  his  mother, 
who  had  visited  him  surreptitiously,  perturbed 
lest  Mrs.  Harrington  and  the  army  man  should 
"ever  wonder  what  she  was  doing  down  this  end 
of  the  town,"  assistance  was  impossible.  His 
only  course  was  to  beg  a  loan  of  Lonsdale  or  to 
write  to  the  Spauldings.  The  remembrance  of 
his  warning  to  Lonsdale,  as  much  as  the  doubt 
how  the  sum  would  be  repayable,  nerved  him  to 
appeal  to  his  aunt. 

He  lacked  the  amount  of  his  bill  and  his  fare 
to  London — and  a  postal  order  duly  reached  him. 
But  wrhen  he  had  slunk  back  to  No.  12,  where 
the  extra  bed  had  been  restored  to  his  cousin 
Harold's  room,  Uncle  George's  proclamation  on 
the  hearthrug,  after  dinner,  caused  him  no  aston- 
ishment. 


56      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"You  must  see  for  yourself  that  this  won't 
work,  my  boy,"  said  Spaulding  definitely;  "y°u'U 
have  to  give  the  stage  up.  You  must  try  to  take 
an  interest  in  something  else — you'll  have  to  be 
satisfied  with  a  berth.  I'll  do  what  I  can  for  you, 
and  you'll  be  able  to  manage  better  if  you  and 
your  mother  go  into  lodgings  together;  there's 
no  reason  for  her  to  remain  at  Sweetbay.  You 
can  take  three  rooms  together  somewhere  in  a 
cheap  neighbourhood,  and  you'll  both  of  you  be 
much  more  comfortable  that  way.  You'd  better 
come  into  the  City  with  me  to-morrow  morn- 
ing." 


CHAPTER  V 

WHEN  the  dull  confusion  had  cleared  from  his 
mind,  when  the  place  where  he  sat  had  begun  to 
be  a  familiar  place,  and  he  knew,  without  raising 
his  eyes,  that  five  letter-files  fell  awry  to  the  left 
of  the  mantelpiece,  and  just  what  section  of  a 
wall  and  a  water-pipe  was  visible  across  the 
glossy  red  backs  of  the  three  bulky  account-books 
that  flanked  the  copying-press,  Tatham  was  sur- 
prised to  perceive  that  the  intimidating  clerks 
under  the  green  shades  around  him  were  becom- 
ing no  less  human  than  actors.  Like  the  actors 
that  he  had  deserted,  they  performed  their  duties 
without  zest  and  without  expectation.  The 
dream  in  which  some  of  them  had  once  indulged 
of  being  summoned  to  the  chief's  presence  to 
receive  compliments  and  a  prominent  position 
already  looked  as  fantastic  to  their  minds  as  the 
dream  of  playing  Hamlet  before  Royalty  looked 
to  the  disillusioned  actor  evading  his  washer- 
woman in  Bacup.  Just  as  all  the  interests  of  the 
actors  had  lain  outside  the  theatre,  so  all  the 
interests  of  the  clerks  lay  outside  the  office.  Ad- 

57 


58      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

mitting  him  by  3egrees  to  confidences — some- 
what tardily,  because  he  was  the  "boss's  nephew" 
— the  erstwhile  intimidating  business  men  talked 
of  music-halls.  Eventually  they  were  more  con- 
fidential than  he,  for  when  their  conversation 
turned  upon  the  play,  he  did  not — since  it  would 
have  rendered  the  sense  of  failure  still  more 
poignant  to  him — acknowledge  that  he  had  been 
on  the  stage.  He  listened  to  their  criticisms  pen- 
sively, and  accepted  their  mistakes  without  re- 
monstrance. Not  even  the  strange  assertions  of 
the  accountant,  a  confirmed  playgoer,  who  by 
reason  of  his  age  erred  dogmatically,  provoked 
him  to  correction. 

The  proposal  that  she  should  return  to  Lon- 
don had  not  appealed  to  Mrs.  Tatham.  She  had 
been  forced  to  submit  herself  to  second-class 
London  lodgings  during  the  last  two  or  three 
years  of  her  husband's  life,  and  she  shrank  from 
renewing  the  experience.  Her  reply  that  ill 
health  made  the  plan  very  undesirable,  of  course 
disposed  of  the  suggestion.  Her  son  was  in- 
stalled in  a  top  bedroom  in  Doughty  Street,  and 
lived  alone  on  the  half  of  a  larger  salary  than  his 
clerical  capacities  would  have  gained  for  him 
from  any  stranger.  By  dint  of  an  indefatigable 
quest  for  the  cheapest  City  chop-houses  and  an 
avoidance  of  pudding,  he  sometimes  had  a  half- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      59* 

crown  remaining  for  the  pit  of  a  theatre  on  Sat- 
urday night.  Not  often.  But  there  were  gal- 
leries at  a  shilling.  And  his  most  frequent  weak- 
ness cost  him,  in  cash,  nothing  at  all.  He  went 
in  the  evening  to  walk  in  the  Strand. 

Formerly  he  had  loathed  the  Strand;  had 
paced  it  despairingly  and  felt  that  never,  so  long 
as  he  lived,  would  he  be  able  even  to  drive  through 
it  without  resentment.  Yet  now  the  street  of 
memories  was  not  without  a  tender  grace,  not 
without  a  sentimental  appeal.  Once  or  twice, 
craving  to  see  it  again  in  its  most  intimate  as- 
pect, he  lunched  rapidly  on  a  sandwich  and  con- 
trived a  breathless  visit  to  the  Strand  during  the 
luncheon  hour.  Luck  was  against  him.  Though 
he  saw  many  actors,  he  saw  none  whom  he  knew. 
But  it  was  an  emotional  promenade,  notwith- 
standing, that  saunter  from  the  Gaiety,  where 
he  jumped  off  the  bus,  to  Charing  Cross  post 
office,  where  he  turned  back  wide-eyed.  He  re- 
entered  clerkdom  guiltily — a  man  with  a  secret, 
a  clerk  who  led  a  double  life.  When  six  months 
had  worn  away,  his  gloom  held  but  a  single  gleam 
of  comfort — the  reflection  that,  distasteful  as  he 
found  the  work,  he  had  never  scamped  it,  never 
reached  his  place  late  nor  left  it  too  soon — the 
comfort  of  reflecting  that  his  uncle  must  report 
upon  him  warmly.  Recognising  the  salary  to  be 


generous,  though  inadequate,  he  was  proud  to 
have  deserved  the  satisfaction.  What  his  uncle 
actually  reported  was  that  "Christopher  did  just 
what  he  was  set  to  do,  but  had  no  initiative,  and 
would  never  be  worth  more  than  he  was  getting." 

Nearly  a  year  had  passed  when  Tatham  at  last 
happened  to  meet  someone  associated  with  the 
"dear  dead  days  beyond  recall,"  and  then  it  was 
not  in  the  Strand,  and  it  was  not  anyone  whom 
he  had  known  well.  On  a  Saturday  afternoon, 
in  Long  Acre,  he  saw  Miss  Peggy  Harper 
approaching. 

"Hallo,  hallo,  hallo!"  she  said,  stopping  to 
greet  him.  For  the  moment  she  couldn't  recall 
his  name,  but  she  put  out  her  hand  genially 
enough,  and  they  stood  smiling  at  each  other. 

"How  d'ye  do?"  said  Tatham  constrainedly. 
To  speak  to  a  girl  was  such  an  unusual  experi- 
ence now  that  he  felt  shy. 

"And  what  have  you  been  doing  with  your- 
self?" 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  he  said.  .  .  .  "You  know 
that  tour  came  to  grief?  One  week,  and  nobody 
got  his  money." 

"What  tour?"  she  said  vaguely.  "Oh,  oh  yes4 
I  remember!  Well,  what's  the  best  news?  Are 
you  doing  anything?" 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      61 

"I — I've  given  it  up.  I'm  not  on  the  stage 
any  more." 

"Aren't  you?  Well,  good  judge  too!  You 
can't  tell  me  of  anything,  then?  I  thought  per- 
haps you  might  have  told  me  of  a  nice  vacancy." 
She  laughed. 

"I  wish  I  could.  Have  you  been  out  of  an 
engagement  long?" 

"No;  I'm  only  just  back  from  tour.  I'm  all 
on  my  own  now.  Mother's  playing  in  Australia. 
I'm  in  diggings  with  another  girl.  I  say!  have 
you  seen  Adas  No  Chicken?" 

He  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  go  to  the  theatre 
very  often.  I  can't  get  seats  for  nothing  now 
I've  left  the  profession." 

"What  rot!  Who's  to  know  you've  left  it? 
you  could  write  and  enclose  one  of  your  old 
cards." 

"Oh,  I  can't  do  that,"  he  said. 

"Well,  I've  got  a  couple  of  stalls  in  my  pocket 
for  the  matinee  this  afternoon.  The  girl  I'm 
living  with  has  got  an  appointment  and  can't 
go  with  me.  If  you've  nothing  to  do,  you  might 
come." 

"Oh,  thanks;  I'd  like  it  immensely,"  said  Tat- 
ham.  'What  time  does  it  begin?" 

"I'm  going  there  now.  Come  along,  then,  or 
we  shall  be  late." 


62      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

He  wished  he  had  put  on  his  other  coat;  but 
it  was  delightful,  nevertheless,  to  sit  in  a  stall 
again  and  talk  to  an  actress.  Almost  he  forgot 
in  moments  that  he  was  to-day  a  clerk.  And 
although  a  sixpenny  programme  and  the  tea 
when  they  came  out  were  items  of  importance, 
a  florin  wasn't  much  as  the  price  of  a  trip  to  an- 
other planet. 

She  gave  him  her  address  before  they  parted, 
and  with  alacrity  he  accepted  her  invitation  to 
"come  in  and  see  them  one  of  these  days."  All' 
the  week  he  found  himself  looking  forward  to  the 
visit.  The  fear  that  on  Saturday  she  was  likely 
to  be  at  another  matinee  determined  him  to  wait 
till  Sunday,  and  he  rose  on  Sunday  with  an 
eagerness  ludicrously  disproportionate  to  the  oc- 
casion. A  new  zest  was  in  his  mood,  a  new  in- 
terest coloured  his  outlook  —  a  zest  and  an  inter- 
est which  the  girl  would  have  been  incapable  of 
inspiring  in  him  twelve  months  before,  when  the 
realm  that  she  represented  had  been  his  own  realm 


She  was  lodging  over  a  little  shop  that  de- 
scribed itself  as  "Dairy  and  Refreshment 
Rooms,"  in  Great  Queen  Street.  The  shutters 
were  up  this  afternoon,  and  he  saw  no  private 
door;  but  after  he  had  rung  twice,  the  shop- 


JTHE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    63 

door  was  opened  and  he  was  instructed  to  "Come 
through,  please." 

"Second  floor,"  said  the  woman.  "Will  you 
go  up." 

A  glimpse  he  had  of  milk-cans,  and  of  stale 
cakes  under  glass  covers.  He  mounted  a  nar- 
row staircase,  to  knock  timidly. 

"Come  in!    Oh,  it's  you!" 

Pleasure  was  in  her  voice.  The  tiny  room  was 
lit  only  by  firelight.  When  she  had  exclaimed 
that  she  was  "jolly  glad  he  had  remembered, 
and  that  he  was  to  take  his  overcoat  off  and  put 
it  down  anywhere,"  he  sat  by  the  fire,  opposite 
her,  and  thought  how  much  cosier  it  was  than 
his  top  bedroom. 

"Naomi  will  be  down  in  a  minute/'  she  said; 
"she's  changing  her  frock.  As  soon  as  she  comes 
you  shall  have  some  tea." 

"Is  'Naomi'  the  girl  you're  living  with?" 

"Yes,  of  course  it  is;  did  you  think  it  was  a 
servant?  Naomi  Knight.  She  talks  like  you — 
you  ought  to  get  on." 

"Talks  like  me?" 

"I  mean  she's  awfully  serious  about  it  all." 

"Oh,  as  I  used  to  talk?" 

"Oh  yes,  of  course — I  forgot  you  weren't  in 
the  profession  now.  What  are  you  doing,  then?" 

"I  told  you.    I'm  in  the  City." 


"Did  you?  I  don't  remember,"  she  said.  "Do 
you  mean  you're  in  a  clerkship?  I  say!  it  must 
be  rather  a  change,  isn't  it?" 

Acutely  he  was  conscious  that  the  moment 
would  be  beautiful  if  she  were  indeed  interested 
to  hear  what  a  change  it  was — if  he  could  make 
confidences  to  an  actress  in  the  firelight  and  find 
her  sympathetic.  But  Peggy  Harper  chattered 
on  before  he  could  make  any  answer  at  all. 
"What  do  you  think  of  our  rooms?  Rotten, 
aren't  they?  But  we're  so  close  to  everything — 
look  at  the  time  it  saves.  Where  are  you  living?" 
Again  she  omitted  to  wait  for  his  reply.  "When 
mother  settled  the  Australian  engagement,  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  live  near  the  Strand.  No 
more  suburbs  for  me;  I'd  rather  have  the  pokiest 
little  place  about  here  than  the  best  diggings  in 
[Netting  Hill  or  Brixton  that  ever  were — half 
your  day's  spent  in  going  backwards  and  for- 
wards. And  look  at  the  fares,  how  they  mount 
up!  I  think  this  is  a  jolly  good  pitch.  Of 
course,  our  food  wants  watching,  but  so  it  does 
wherever  you  go.  Does  your  landlady  take  your 
things?  Everybody  says  the  professional  land- 
ladies steal  less  than  the  others.  Have  you  found 
that?  Does  your  landlady  let  to  the  profession? 
I  say,  it's  a  funny  thing,  if  anyone  steals  a 
ha'porth  of  bread  from  a  shop  once  in  her  life 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      65 

because  she's  starving  she  gets  sent  to  prison, 
but  nearly  every  landlady  steals  bread  and  meat 
and  groceries  all  the  year  round  as  a  matter  of 
course  and  you  mustn't  even  complain  of  it 
openly,  or  she  blackguards  you,  besides." 

It  was  something  of  a  disappointment  to  find 
that  Miss  Xaomi  Knight  was  neither  very  young 
nor  very  good-looking.  She  was  revealed  as  a 
thin,  dark  woman  who  seemed  at  first  to  possess 
no  other  attraction  than  a  pleasant  voice.  It  was 
not  until  he  had  helped  to  take  the  cups  and 
saucers  from  the  cupboard  and  to  clear  a  good 
deofl  of  litter  from  the  only  table  that  she  uttered 
anything  but  trivialities.  Then,  of  course,  the 
talk  reverted  from  the  teapot  to  the  stage,  and 
she  told  him  what  character  she  had  played  last 
and  what  she  thought  of  it.  He  found  her  ideas 
on  the  subject — for  he  knew  the  piece — very  in- 
teresting. 

"I  said  you  two  'd  get  on,"  cried  Peggy.  "I 
shock  her  frightfully.  I  don't  know  how  she  puts 
up  with  me." 

"Don't  be  so  silly,"  said  Miss  Knight.  "She 
won't  work,  Mr.  Tatham,  that's  what's  the  mat- 
ter with  this  girl." 

"I'm  not  going  to  give  myself  the  hump  over 
Shakespeare,  and  Ibsen,  and  things  like  that. 


66      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

What's  the  good?  I  shall  never  play  'em!  Be- 
sides, I  don't  understand  what  they  mean." 

Miss  Knight  smiled  indulgently.  "Some 
women  who  do  play  them  don't  read  them,"  she 
said.  "I  was  in  a  company  with  a  woman  once 
who  told  me  she  had  played  in  three  Shakespear- 
ean seasons  and  never  read  one  of  the  plays  in 
her  life — she  had  only  read  her  own  lines." 

"Do  you  believe  it?"  asked  Tatham. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  quite  believe  it ;  I'm  sure  it 
was  true.  The  most  extraordinary  people  go  on 
the  stage.  They  haven't  any  gift  for  it,  and  they 
aren't  even  earnest  about  it.  I  can't  make  out 
how  they  expect  to  do  any  good." 

"Hark  at  her  rubbing  it  into  me!"  laughed 
Peggy. 

"I  wasn't  thinking  about  you  at  all;  you're 
only  a  child  yet." 

"Child  yourself!  I  shall  get  up  and  smack 
you  if  you  aren't  careful.  Child,  indeed!"  She 
appealed  gaily  to  Tatham.  "Don't  you  think 
I'm  grown  up?" 

"I  think  you're  very  nice,"  he  said  diffidently. 

"There  you  are?  So  I  am.  So  are  you!  I 
say,  do  you  know  this  boy  lost  a  shop  through 
me  a  hundred  years  ago?  That  was  how  we 
met.  'Do  let  me  go  in  next!'  I  said.  Like 
that — the  pathetic  heroine.  'With  pleasure,'  he 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      67 

said.  Talk  about  manners,  he  was  a  regular 
Lord  Burleigh." 

"Chesterfield's  the  gentleman  you're  thinking 
of,  ducky." 

"Oh,  well,  what's  the  odds,  it's  all  the  same. 
And  then  he  popped  his  watch  for  me.  I  say, 
did  you  ever  get  it  out?  Let's  see  if  you've  got 
your  watch  on  I" 

He  had  got  it  on  at  last,  but  he  turned  very 
red,  and  Miss  Knight  interposed  hastily: 

"Don't  take  any  notice  of  her;  she  wants  a 
good  shaking.  Where  were  you  both — in  Lon- 
don? Are  you  playing  anywhere  now?" 

"I've  given  it  up,"  he  said  again;  "I'm  not  an 
actor.* 

"Oh,  really?    Didn't  you  care  for  it?" 

"Yes,  very  much." 

"But  that's  awfully  hard  lines  on  you."  She 
was  attentive,  grieved;  her  attitude  invited  him 
to  say  more. 

"It  was  rather  a  facer.  I'm  in  a  clerkship — 
I  had  to  do  something,  and  engagements  were  too 
difficult  to  find." 

"But  that's  cruel!" 

"Isn't  it  beastly  rough  on  him?"  exclaimed 
Peggy  brightly,  who  hadn't  thought  so  till  she 
was  told.  "And  I'm  sure  he  was  clever.  Weren't 
you?" 


(68      THE  PQSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"I  wasn't  clever  enough  to  get  on." 

"Oh,  but  you're  so  young,"  said  Miss  Knight. 
"I  think  it's  dreadfully  hard  lines  on  you;  I  do 
really.  And  do  you  have  to  go  to  the  City  every 
day?"  She  seemed  to  hope  that  he  had  found  a 
clerkship  in  which  he  was  needed  only  once  a 
week. 

"Saturday's  a  half -holiday;  Sunday's  a  red- 
letter  day — this  Sunday.  I  haven't  even  come 
across  anyone  in  the  profession  till  I  met  Miss 
Harper." 

"I  do  think  this  poor  boy's  to  be  pitied,"  de- 
clared Peggy.  Her  sympathy,  though  late,  was 
pleasant.  "Don't  you  think  it's  very  brave  of 
him,  Naomi?"  She  went  a  step  too  far  and  made 
him  feel  ridiculous. 

"Won't  you  tell  me  more  about  yourself,  Miss 
Knight?  What  are  you  reading  now?" 

She  was  reading  a  novel,  and  a  good  one — suf- 
ficiently good  for  him  to  be  surprised  to  learn 
that  she  had  heard  of  it.  She  talked  of  it  very 
intelligently.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  study 
of  character  fascinated  her — her  interest  in  it 
was  not  a  pose — and  Tatham  began  to  feel  that 
although  she  had  made  no  position  in  the  theatre 
yet,  he  was  listening  to  a  woman  who  was  des- 
tined to  be  heard  of  by-and-by.  Excepting  Elsie 
Lane,  he  had  known  no  other  actress  who  im- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      69 

pressed  him  with  this  conviction,  and  he  could 
not  help  reflecting  that  Peggy  Harper  was  right 
in  saying  that  they  were  very  dissimilar  com- 
panions. 

Yet,  because  Peggy  was  young,  and  might 
in  moments  be  called  pretty,  it  was  Peggy  who 
lent  enchantment  to  the  parlour  over  the  dairy 
and  refreshment  rooms  on  Sundays  now.  If 
Miss  Knight  sometimes  said  things  that  came 
back  to  him  when  he  had  gone,  it  was  Peggy 
who  drew  his  gaze  oftener  when  he  was  there. 
And  her  chatter  had  a  charm  for  him  too,  for 
was  it  not  always  professional!  Indeed,  it  took 
him  much  nearer  to  the  wings  than  Miss  Knight's 
analyses  of  Shakespeare's  heroines.  The  chance 
of  getting  "shopped"  in  some  obscure  company, 
Naomi's  prospect  of  settling  for  a  part,  through 
Albemarle,  the  disappointments  met  with — these 
topics  exercised  a  fascination  over  a  young  man, 
who,  stage-struck  from  his  boyhood,  had  been 
compelled  to  relinquish  the  stage.  Even  the 
slang  that  she  used  made  the  past  glow  again. 
If  she  had  been  a  dressmaker's  assistant,  or  a 
waitress,  her  interest  would  have  been  slight,  but 
the  theatre  transmuted  her.  To  him  she  repre- 
sented the  theatre.  He  hated  the  City,  and  she 
was  the  ray  of  limelight  in  his  life. 

"Don't  you  think  he's  mashed  on  you,  Peggy?" 


70      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

said  Miss  Knight  one  day  when  they  sat  talking 
about  him. 

"What  rot!"  said  Peggy,  with  a  conscious 
smile. 

"You  hum!    You  know  very  well  he  is." 

"Well,  what  of  it  anyhow?" 

"Oh,  nothing!" 

And  that  was  the  girl's  view  too.  He  was 
"mashed  on  her."  It  meant  to  her  simply  the 
gratification  of  having  made  a  conquest. 
Whether  he  would  tell  her  that  he  was  "mashed," 
even  whether  she  liked  him  enough  to  wish  him 
to  do  so,  were  matters  to  which  she  gave  no 
thought.  Why  should  she,  why  "worry  to  think," 
since  he  was  too  hard  up  to  marry  for  ever  so 
long?  Sufficient  for  the  day  was  the  admiration 
thereof — and  it  was  the  first  time  that  she  had 
found  an  admirer  who  was  a  gentleman. 

That  he  was  a  gentleman  was  as  forcefully 
Tatham's  attraction  to  the  girl  as  the  fact  of 
her  being  an  actress  was  her  attraction  to  him. 
Just  as  the  man  knew,  when  he  was  willing  to 
remember  it,  that  she  was  vapid  and  vulgar,  so 
the  girl  knew  at  the  back  of  her  little  hen's  brain 
that  his  conversation  was  much  less  congenial 
to  her  than  the  banter  of  the  young  men  with 
whom  she  was  accustomed  to  joke.  But  he  was 
a  gentleman!  She  had  no  doubt  on  the  point — 


.THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      71 

she  had  not  needed  Naomi's  confirmation;  un- 
erringly she  could  distinguish,  as  girls  on  even 
a  lower  social  stratum  can  unerringly  distinguish, 
between  gentlemen  and  the  gentlemanly,  and  to 
have  captivated  him  flattered  her  much.  It  flat- 
tered her  so  much  that,  even  if  he  had  attempted 
to  improve  her  mind,  she  would  have  cheerfully 
submitted  for  a  time. 

Soon  his  visits  were  not  limited  to  Sundays; 
often  he  sat  by  the  fire  in  Great  Queen  Street 
on  Saturdays  too.  The  Era  was  published  on 
Saturday,  and  if  he  took  in  a  copy  of  a  paper 
that  she  could  not  afford  to  buy  she  was  frankly 
and  joyously  appreciative.  It  wasn't,  "Thanks, 
that's  very  kind  of  you,  I  haven't  seen  it  yet;" 
it  was,  "You  are  a  brick!  I  say,  it  is  good  of 
you!  ive  can't  run  to  sixpenny  papers."  She 
pretended  to  surplus  silver  no  more  than  to  his- 
trionic enthusiasm — from  motives  of  self-aggran- 
disement she  pretended  nothing,  she  was  spon- 
taneity personified.  She  was  spontaneity  per- 
sonified one  Saturday  when  he  arrived  to  be 
greeted  with  the  news  that  her  friend  had  just 
found  an  engagement. 

"Here,  you're  just  in  time ;  come  and  congratu- 
late her!"  she  cried.  "This  girl  has  struck  it 
rich.  She  has!  She's  going  to  play  'Mrs.  Joce- 
lyn'  in  Mabel,  Go  and  Put  On  Your  Hat'* 


72      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"Oh,  I'm  awfully  glad!"  exclaimed  Tatham, 
for  it  was  an  excellent  part  in  a  very  successful 
West  End  comedy  by  a  brilliant  writer. 

"Isn't  it  jolly?"  said  Miss  Knight.  "I'm  ever 
so  pleased  about  it ;  it  was  only  decided  this  morn- 
ing. And  I  shan't  have  to  give  up  these  rooms 
at  the  start — that's  another  good  thing,  for  it's 
for  an  eight  weeks'  tour  of  the  suburbs." 

"And  afterwards?" 

"Afterwards  we  go  into  the  provinces,  per- 
haps. That  isn't  sure  yet." 

"You'll  be  left  here  alone  if  she  goes  away?" 
he  said,  turning  to  Peggy. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  if  she  goes 
away — I  couldn't  manage  to  keep  on  all  this  by 
myself;  I'd  have  to  put  up  with  a  combined  room 
if  I  was  still  in  town.  But  there's  lots  of  time 
to  worry  about  that,  I  may  be  in  the  provinces 
too  before  then.  I  say,  I  do  think  it's  ripping, 
her  getting  such  a  swagger  part!"  She  was  as 
genuinely  elated  as  if  she  herself  had  been  for- 
tunate. 

"I  hope  you  don't  go  into  the  provinces  too," 
he  said.  "What'd  become  of  me?  It's  very  selfish 
of  you  to  think  of  such  a  thing — the  least  you 
can  do  is  to  stand  out  for  a  London  engage- 
ment!" 

"Yes,  likely!     What  price  mother?     You'd 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      73 

better  drop  her  a  postcard,  tell  her  she's  to  go 
on  sending  me  money  every  week  till  I'm  offered 
leading  business  up  West.  I  see  mother's  face! 
How  many  changes  have  you  got,  Naomi?  have 
you  got  to  find  your  own  frocks?" 

"Yes;  but  I've  got  all  I  want,  except  the  black 
— I  can  make  my  evening  frock  pass  for  clean  if 
I  cover  it  up  with  chiffon.  You've  seen  the  piece, 
Mr.  Tatham,  haven't  you?  What  did  you  think 
of  the  way  Miss  Stevens  played  the  scene  in  the 
third  act?  Do  you  remember?" 

"I  thought  she  was  very  good.    Didn't  you?" 

"Y-e-s,  I  thought  she  might  have  done  rather 
more.  I  didn't  think  she  brought  out  quite  all 
there  was  in  it ;  she  didn't  seem  to  me  to  go  quite 
deep  enough." 

"I  suppose  you'll  have  to  copy  her?"  he  asked. 
"It  must  be  rather  rough,  the  way  all  the  people 
have  to  copy  the  performances  of  the  London 
company,  whether  they  want  to  or  not?" 

fel  shan't — not  altogether.  I  may  have  to  do 
it  at  the  rehearsals,  but  I  shall  give  my  own  read- 
ing of  the  part  at  night." 

"Hear,  hear!"  said  Peggy.  "Don't  you  be 
sat  on,  old  girl!  I  say,  this  wants  celebrating. 
Hold  on  a  minute,  both  of  you!  I  shan't  pay, 
I  shall  tell  her  to  stick  it  on  the  bill."  She  darted 
out  of  the  room,  and  reappeared  two  minutes 


74      JTHE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

later  with  bottles  from  the  shop.  "It's  teetotal 
• — I  can't  help  that,  she  hasn't  got  a  licence !"  she 
announced  to  Tatham.  "You'll  find  tumblers 
in  the  cupboard — don't  upset  the  cruet,  it's 
rocky." 

"There  are  only  two  there,"  said  Naomi 
[Knight;  "I  took  up  the  other  for  our  teeth." 

"Bring  me  a  cup,  thenl" 

"No,  I'll  have  the  cup,"  said  Tatham. 

"Give  it  to  me!"  She  struggled  with  him  sin- 
cerely, and  was  victorious.  "Here's  to  Naomi!" 

"Miss  Naomi  Knight!" 

"Here's  to  everybody!"  laughed  she. 

And  then,  the  importance  of  the  part  again, 
the  name  of  the  suburb  they  were  to  "open"  in, 
the  absorbing  question  of  the  "chiffon,"  whether, 
after  all,  chiffon  would  conceal  the  shabbiness  so 
well  as  lace.  When  he  sat  in  the  top  bedroom 
that  evening,  in  an  armchair  with  a  broken  spring, 
blowing  smoke  musingly,  Tatham  wondered  how 
the  bohemian  scene  would  look  on  the  stage  if  a 
playwright  reproduced  it  there,  wondered  if 
there  would  be  any  atmosphere  in  it  behind  the 
footlights — two  girls,  and  a  young  man,  all 
more  or  less  penniless,  drinking  toasts  to  the  fu- 
ture in  ginger  ale  "stuck  upon  the  bill."  A  com- 
edy, of  course,  and  the  younger  hostess,  Peggy, 
would  be  the  heroine.  The  young  man,  presum- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      75 

ably,  would  be  the  hero — one  would  have  to  make 
him  something  more  interesting  than  a  cleik  at 
a  hop  merchant's.  A  rich  man's  son,  estranged 
from  his  family  and  forgiven  later?  Nothing 
very  original  about  that.  Still  the  hero  must 
marry  her  at  the  end — he  would  have  to  get  the 
money  somehow !  Earn  it?  Y-e-s.  What  at? 

Frowning,  smiling,  with  no  definite  purpose, 
he  pondered  the  fancy  that  had  come  to  him — be- 
gan to  discern  the  dim  outline  of  a  plot  in  it; 
became  all  at  once  unpractical  and  was  a  popular 
dramatist,  dizzy  with  triumph;  dropped  from 
Olympus,  with  a  bump,  on  to  the  incipient  plot 
and  found  that  it  wouldn't  do  at  all.  He  aban- 
doned the  matter.  Ridiculous  daydream!  He 
resolved  to  think  of  something  else — and  discov- 
ered that  the  comedy  was  insistent.  He  jumped 
up  and  thrust  a  chair  to  the  rickety  table,  and 
slowly,  laboriously  proceeded  to  examine  his 
fancy  with  pen  and  ink. 

So  he  took  his  first  step  to  authorship. 


CHAPTER   VI 

NOT  the  next  incident  in  his  acquaintance  witH 
Peggy  Harper,  but  the  next  incident  that  always 
remained  in  his  memory,  was  his  travelling  be- 
side her  in  a  tram,  full  of  dripping  umbrellas, 
and  sitting  beside  her  in  a  suburban  dress  circle. 
Naomi  Knight  had  obtained  a  pass  for  them. 

He  had  anticipated  the  evening  with  consid- 
erable eagerness.  At  every  visit  that  he  had  paid 
during  three  weeks  he  had  listened  to  accounts 
of  the  rehearsals,  heard  discussions  about  her 
dresses — more  than  all,  had  been  saturated  in  her 
views  of  her  part.  The  intensity  with  which  she 
had  expatiated  upon  subtle  points  in  it  recurred 
to  him  painfully  as  he  sat  in  the  dress  circle  and 
found  her  to  be  entirely  commonplace.  The 
woman  whose  dramatic  intelligence  was  so  acute 
in  the  parlour,  displayed  not  the  least  touch  of 
inspiration  on  the  stage.  She  was  mediocrity  it- 
self. He  had  a  suspicion  that  Peggy  did  not 
think  much  of  her  either,  although  they  both  ap- 
plauded loudly. 

The  journey  back  was  embarrassing  to  him. 

76 


They  all  returned  together;  and  the  actress's  un- 
consciousness of  having  failed  to  fulfil  her  con- 
ception of  the  character,  her  unconsciousness  of 
how  piteously  far  her  executive  powers  fell  short 
of  her  ideas,  made  answers  to  her  questions  ex- 
tremely difficult.  It  was  evident,  however,  that 
the  halting  falsehoods  which  he  found  himself 
uttering  sounded  sincere  to  her.  Again  she 
talked  raptly  of  her  reasons  for  delivering  cer- 
tain lines  in  a  certain  way,  and  the  exposition  was 
admirable — the  exposition  of  an  artist ;  she  knew 
as  much  about  the  meaning  of  the  part  as  the 
man  who  had  written  it.  With  bewilderment 
Tatham  remembered  that  the  lines  when  she 
spoke  them  had  made  no  impression  on  him  what- 
ever— that  the  intellect  that  she  had  brought  to 
bear  upon  them  would  have  been  suspected  by 
no  one — because  she  couldn't  act.  It  was  the 
truth.  She  couldn't  act.  But  the  fact  amazed 
him. 

He  would  have  avoided  going  in  with  them 
when  Great  Queen  Street  was  reached,  but  his 
excuses  were  overridden.  There  was  a  pork  pie 
for  supper,  large  enough  for  three  appetites,  and 
the  quantity  of  beer  in  the  jug  showed  that  his 
presence  at  supper  had  been  expected.  Well, 
all  the  questions  had  been  asked  by  this  time. 
The  party  was  pleasant  enough.  The  fatigue 


78      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

to  which  Miss  Knight  had  acknowledged  in  the 
tram  disappeared  at  the  table;  it  gave  place  to 
high  spirits,  the  hilarity  of  a  woman  exhilarated 
by  success.  He  had  never  seen  her  so  animated 
before.  The  merriment  of  illusory  triumph 
pealed,  and  was  infectious;  by  degrees  he  re- 
sponded to  it,  was  as  talkative  as  his  hostesses. 
He  began  to  see  that  Peggy  had  by  now  come 
to  feel  what  she  wished  to  believe ;  he  even  ceased 
to  remember  that  he  had  been  deeply  disap- 
pointed himself.  After  all,  a  first  performance 
was  nervous  work !  It  was  a  scene  of  light-heart- 
edness,  endearments,  and  self-deception,  a  scene 
eminently  typical  of  the  world  in  which  it  took 
place. 

When  Peggy  went  downstairs  to  let  him  out, 
one  o'clock  had  struck.  The  staircase  and  the 
little  shop  were  quite  dark;  but  for  the  candle 
that  she  carried,  he  would  have  been  unable  to 
see  the  way.  The  responsibility  of  bolts  and 
chain  had  been  entrusted  to  her  by  the  house- 
holder, and  at  her  bidding  he  held  the  candle 
while  she  fumbled  with  them.  She  appeared  to 
find  the  task  of  unfastening  the  door  a  compli- 
cated one,  and  for  an  instant  her  cheek  was  so 
close  to  his  face  that  all  his  self-control  was  nec- 
essary. As  he  strode  up  the  wet  street,  he  kept 
questioning  whether  she  had  given  him  any  credil 


POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      79 

for   the   self-control,   or  thought   him   merely 
stupid. 

The  girl  shot  the  holts  moodily.  At  least  half 
an  hour  ago  she  had  decided  that  he  should  kiss 
her  when  they  went  downstairs,  and  the  failure 
of  her  plan  depressed  her.  Yet  she  did  not  think 
him  "stupid";  she  reflected  again  that  he  was  a 
"perfect  gentleman."  From  his  superior  point 
of  view,  she  realised,  kissing  her  would  mean  a 
declaration — he  couldn't  go  on  coming  here  and 
kissing  her  and  never  ask  her  to  be  engaged  to 
him.  Lots  of  fellows  would,  of  course — all  the 
boys  that  she  knew — just  as  often  as  she'd  let 
them,  but  not  Tatham.  He  wasn't  their  class. 
Still,  it  had  been  an  awful  sell!  In  one  way  it 
was  a  pity  a  gentleman  was  so  particular,  for 
she  really  was  not  certain  that  she  wanted  to 
marry  him  if  he  did  ask  her.  She  wanted  him  to 
kiss  her,  however — she  hadn't  any  doubt  about 
that.  Her  face  was  glum  when  she  went  back 
to  the  room. 

"You  haven't  been  very  quick  about  it?"  said 
Naomi  Knight,  facetiously  inquiring. 

"Oh,  rats!"  she  snapped. 
Sorry  I  asked,  my  pet!" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  the  girl 
tartly. 


60      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"Nothing  to  lose  your  temper  about,  then,  is 
there?" 

"I'm  not  losing  my  temper  at  all.  I  suppose 
I  can  go  downstairs  to  see  a  pal  off  without  being 
badgered,  can't  I  ?  Funny  ideas  you  must  have, 
I'm  sure!" 

Naomi  Knight  yawned.  "I  think  it's  time  we 
went  to  bed.  I  don't  know  what's  the  matter 
with  you  all  of  a  sudden." 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  the  matter  with  me,"  she 
exclaimed.  "I'm  tired,  that's  all.  I  want  a  cig. 
\Vhere  are  they?"  She  found  the  remainder  of 
a  packet  of  cheap  cigarettes  on  the  mantelpiece, 
and  puffed  one  violently.  "Oh,  Naomi,  I  am 
such  a  fool;  I've  never  been  silly  about  anyone 
else — I  think  it's  because  he's  so  shy." 

Out  of  her  knowledge,  the  woman  laughed 
shortly.  "And  they  fancy  we  girls  are  so  differ- 
ent from  themselves !" 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?  D'ye  think 
he'll  ever  say  anything?" 

"Yes.  What  are  you  going  to  do  if  he  does? 
You  can't  marry — I  don't  suppose  he  gets  thirty 
bob  a  week." 

"He's  in  his  uncle's  office;  surely  to  goodness 
he  gets  more  than  that?  Besides  ...  I  don't 
know.  I  don't  know  what  I  want,  that's  a  fact. 
I've  got  the  hump." 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      81 

"What  you  want  is  a  jolly  long  tour;  you'd 
be  all  right  if  you  didn't  see  him  for  a  few 
months." 

"Don't  you  think  I  like  him?" 

"I  don't  think  you're  in  love  with  him;  you 
don't  care  about  him  really.  And  if  you  did, 
it  wouldn't  be  important  at  eighteen.  Oh,  my 
dear,  when  one  looks  back!  .  .  .  What  does  it 
amount  to  afterwards?  one  can't  remember  what 
colour  his  hair  was.  Time's  rotten,  Peg.  Time's 
a  beast.  There  was  a  fellow Oh,  well!" 

"He's  writing  a  play,"  said  Peggy  rumina- 
tively. 

"Writing  a  play?    Is  he?" 

"Of  course  he  hasn't  much  time,  only  the  even- 
ings. Still Authors  do  make  money,  don't 

they?" 

"Some  of  them  do.    What  sort  of  play  is  it?" 

"A  comedy.  I — I  don't  see  much  in  it  myself 
—what  he  told  me.  It's  about  the  profession. 
Who  cares  about  that?  The  people  talk  much 
the  same  as  they  do  in  real  life;  that's  his  idea, 
he  wants  to  be  as  much  like  real  life  as  he  can. 
Who  cares  about  real  life?  And  the  trouble  the 
plot's  giving  him!  Of  course,  he  must  do  as  he 
likes,  but  if  I  was  an  author,  I'd  write  costume 
pieces  about  bygone  times — you  don't  need  to 
worry  about  the  plot  then,  any  old  thing'll  do  if 


82      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

the  people  are  dressed  up  quamt  and  talk  old- 
fashioned.  I  daresay  some  costume  pieces  are 
all  right,  but  look  at  most  of  'em — my  word,  the 
public  had  got  sick  of  those  silly  old  plots  before 
mother  was  born!  They  wouldn't  run  a  night 
if  it  wasn't  for  the  clothes  and  'prithees/ ' 

"I  do  protest  the  clothes  are  monstrous  pleas- 
ing," smiled  Miss  Knight.  "I'd  like  to  read  Tat- 
ham's  piece.  Has  he  shown  you  any  of  it  ?  Ask 
him  to  lend  you  the  first  act  if  it's  finished." 

It  was  then  far  from  being  finished ;  but  when 
he  came  again  and  Peggy  said,  "I  say,  I  should 
like  to  read  your  first  act  when  it's  done,"  the 
invitation  was  not  one  that  he  was  likely  to  for- 
get. 

So,  nervously  and  proudly,  a  few  weeks  later 
he  left  Act  I  in  her  hands  for  perusal,  and  spent 
all  the  evening  picturing  her  absorbed  by  it  and 
wondering  if  he  would  receive  a  letter  from  her 
by  the  first  post  in  the  morning;  and  since  an 
account  for  typewriting  was  an  impossible  in- 
dulgence before  the  act  received  revision,  his  stack 
of  neat  manuscript  had  been  a  forbidding  object 
to  her  when  she  thanked  him. 

Naomi  Knight  found  it  crumpled  behind  the 
sofa  cushion  next  day,  where  Peggy  had  forgot- 
ten it,  after  a  valiant  but  vain  attempt  which 
petered  out  at  the  seventeenth  page.  She  did  not 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      88 

own  that  she  had  forgotten  it;  still  less  would 
the  sentimentality  to  which  she  had  acknowledged 
allow  her  to  admit  that  she  had  not  read  it.  Her 
statement  that  she  had  "read  it  yesterday"  and 
her  subsequent  pretence  of  finding  the  other's 
opinions  of  it  in  agreement  with  her  own  was 
perhaps  her  earliest  affectation. 

That  her  friend  happened  to  be  a  better  critic 
than  an  actress  was  fortunate  for  Peggy — her 
Cockney  shrewdness  took  full  advantage  of  the 
fact.  Though  she  did  not  deceive  the  woman 
for  an  instant,  she  deceived  the  young  man  con- 
tinuously. In  moments  she  deceived  herself.  She 
was  enabled  to  discuss  his  wrork  with  an  assur- 
ance that  compensated  to  him  for  that  appalling 
week  during  which  he  had  waited,  sick  with  sus- 
pense, for  a  letter  that  never  came.  She  was  at 
this  period  a  companion  to  him,  and  he  found 
nothing  remarkable  in  the  circumstances  that  her 
objections  coincided  with  Naomi  Knight's — it 
was  to  be  expected  that  Miss  Knight  would  in- 
fluence her.  Thanks  to  Miss  Knight,  she  had  oc- 
casional hints  to  offer;  and  again  it  was  by  no 
means  astonishing  that  Miss  Knight  proved  to 
be  of  the  same  mind  with  regard  to  them.  If 
the  tour  of  Mabel,  Go  and  Put  On  Your  Hat 
had  been  extended  to  the  country,  Peggy  would 
have  been  severely  embarrassed  in  her  role  of 


84      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

dramatic  adviser,  but  it  finished  at  Fulham ;  and 
the  chief  thing  that  daunted  her  now  was  the 
alarming  length  of  her  involuntary  vacation. 
"Mother's"  letter  had  drawn  tears  once,  when 
he  entered. 

"  'Tisn't  as  if  she  didn't  understand  1"  she 
quavered.  "She's  heen  out  often  enough  herself; 
she  ought  to  know  it  isn't  my  fault.  Great  Scott! 
when  I  was  with  Morgan,  in  panto,  she  wouldn't 
have  had  a  cent  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me.  I  paid 
all  exes  right  through  the  season,  and  took  out 
the  muff  and  chain  she'd  pawned,  too.  She's  got 
no  right  to  talk  as  she  does." 

"Oh,  well,  don't  cry,"  he  said,  moved;  "you'll 
find  something  soon." 

"I'm  not  crying.  I  don't  care.  She  can  say 
what  she  jolly  well  likes.  Talk  about  mothers! 

it's  no  thanks  to  her  I'm Oh,  well,  I  know 

her!  she's  got  out  of  bed  the  wrong  side,  she 
wrote  on  one  of  her  days.  Next  mail  I'll  get  a 
long  letter  calling  me  'Lovey.'  I'll  'lovey'  her. 
.  .  .  She  drove  father  silly!  Father  was  a  gen- 
tleman. He  was — father  was  never  in  the  pro- 
fession till  he  married,  he  only  went  into  it  after- 
wards, lie  and  mother  used  to  run  their  own 
companies  when  I  was  a  kid.  I  can  remember 
father — he  always  wore  spats.  I  don't  know 
what's  going  to  become  of  me !  I've  had  to  drop 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      85 

my  ads  in  The  Stage  because  I  couldn't  keep  on 
paying  the  bob." 

"I  can  find  a  bob  every  week,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  it'd  be  all  right,  wouldn't  it — you  having 
to  give  it  up  yourself  and  paying  for  my  ads 
afterwards." 

"Advertising  was  no  use  to  me  anyhow — my 
name  didn't  say  anything  to  managers  when  they 
saw  it." 

"I  don't  know  that  it's  much  use  to  me,  if  it 
comes  to  that.  Still,  I  always  do  advertise  when 
I've  got  the  money  to  spare;  there's  just  the 
chance  of  your  name  being  seen  by  someone  who's 
got  a  vacancy  and  knows  what  you  can  do." 

She  consented  to  write  the  advertisement  pres- 
ently; and  he  left  it,  with  a  shilling,  at  The  Stage 
office  on  his  way  back  to  the  rickety  table.  The 
table  wobbled  under  his  hand  into  the  small  hours 
now — persistently  escaping  from  the  wads  of 
paper  that  he  placed  beneath  its  legs — and  his 
landlady  made  an  extra  charge  in  the  bills  for 
his  unconscionable  demands  upon  the  gas.  Often 
he  took  his  way  to  the  City  sleepily,  and  it  seemed 
anomalous,  now  that  he  grudged  each  hour  there 
as  an  encroachment  upon  precious  time,  that  he 
was  able  to  fulfil  a  clerk's  duties  with  a  lighter 
heart.  But  lighter  it  was.  With  the  private  in- 
terest, the  new  hope  to  sustain  him,  he  felt  more 


86      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

cheerful  in  the  City  than  he  had  felt  since  his 
initiation.  The  day  might  be  as  gloomy,  but 
the  prospect  had  brightened.  There  was,  in  mo- 
ments, something  not  unfriendly  in  the  glimpse 
of  the  wall  and  the  water-pipe  across  the  red 
backs  of  the  account  books — it  was  a  transparent 
wall  that  revealed  a  future.  If  the  prettiest  lines 
of  the  dialogue  that  he  had  accomplished  in  the 
bedroom  overnight  often  intruded  next  morn- 
ing wThen  he  was  perched,  casting  figures,  in  the 
office,  their  clandestine  visit  was  not  without  a 
charm — the  office  was  no  sadder  for  their  caress. 
And  his  additions  weren't  much  the  slower  for  it. 
What  Tatham  needed  pressingly,  and  had 
needed  pressingly  from  the  moment  of  his  re- 
luctant introduction  to  hops,  was  a  man's  com- 
panionship. He  was  alone.  And  just  as  he  had 
exaggerated  Peggy  in  the  dreariness  of  solitude, 
he  exaggerated  her  now  in  the  eagerness  of  am- 
bition. Her  charm  was  no  longer  the  mere  ray 
of  limelight  that  she  shed — authorship  had  in- 
creased, not  diminished,  his  need  of  companion- 
ship. There  were  hours — less  the  hours  of  diffi- 
culty than  the  effervescent  hours  of  difficulties 
surmounted — when  the  society  of  a  man  who  had 
the  interest  to  listen  and  the  ability  to  respond 
would  have  been  a  boon  beyond  price.  A  plain 
young  woman,  called  Naomi  Knight,  could  have 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      87 

supplied  all  that  lie  in  truth  sought  in  Peggy, 
and  have  supplied  it  honestly.  But  Peggy  and 
she  were  "pals" — in  their  vernacular — so  she 
supplied  no  more  than  echoes.  And  there  was 
another  late  evening  when  the  dairy  and  re- 
freshment rooms  slumbered  when  he  left. 

As  it  happened,  they  had  not  been  talking 
much  of  his  comedy  that  evening — they  had  been 
talking  of  the  letters  from  Peggy's  mother;  for 
some  little  time  all  of  them  had  been  written  on 
the  lady's  "days"  apparently.  The  girl's  eyes 
were  red;  she  said  nothing  as  she  tiptoed  down 
the  stairs.  In  the  parlour,  only  Naomi's  presence 
had  prevented  a  demonstration  of  his  sympathy; 
in  the  darkness  of  the  shop  he  paused,  and  turned. 

"Do  buck  up,  little  girl!"  he  begged,  under 
his  breath.  "I  hate  leaving  you  like  this." 

"I'm  all  right,"  she  muttered. 

"I  wish  I  could  lend  you  the  money,  so  that 
you  needn't  take  any  from  her.  You  know  I 
haven't  got  it?" 

"What  next  ?    Why  should  you  ?" 

"That  isn't  it.  Do  you  understand  I  haven't 
got  it?" 

"Of  course  I  understand!  Don't  look  like 
that;  you  needn't  worry  about  me" 

"I  am  worrying.  You  don't  know  how  sorry 
I  am  for  you." 


88      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"Are  you?" 

Her  face  was  spiritualised  in  the  candlelight, 
the  girlish  figure  drooped  pathetically.  He  took 
the  candlestick  from  her  hand  and  put  it  on  the 
counter,  and  she  didn't  ask  him  "why." 

"Peggy!"  he  exclaimed — and  she  was  sobbing 
on  his  shoulder. 

"Don't,  kiddy!    I  love  you." 

She  sobbed  more  unrestrainedly.  He  stroked 
her  hair,  and  kissed  her  on  the  cheek,  stammer- 
ing empty  phrases  of  encouragement.  Empty  as 
they  were,  they  calmed  her — she  was  smiling 
when  she  raised  her  head.  "I  love  you,"  he  said 
again,  thinking  it  true,  and  kissed  her  on  the 
lips. 

After  the  silence,  "I  don't  care  now!"  she  said. 
She  was  radiant,  though  her  lashes  glistened. 
She  stood  at  arm's  length  from  him,  regarding 
him  triumphantly. 

"Will  you  wait  till  we  can  marry?" 

Quick  nods  gave  answer. 

"Even  if  it's  a  long  time?  It  will  be  a  long 
time,  Peggy." 

"I  expect  it  will." 

"You  see,  I'm  not  alone,  I've  got  to  help  my 
mother;  my  salary  doesn't  do  much  for  me." 

"Lot  o'  mothers,  aren't  there?"  she  pouted 
playfully.  "There's  the  comedy!" 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      89 

"Oh  yes,  if  I  get  the  comedy  taken,  if  it's  a 
success,  we  shall  be  as  right  as  rain !  .  .  .  You'll 
give  up  the  stage  then,  won't  you?  I  don't  want 
you  to  go  on  acting  when  we're  married." 

;  'When  we  are  mar-ried/  "  she  hummed  from 
Fhe  Belle  of  New  York.  "Oh,  I'll  give  it  up, 
never  fear! 

*Wlien  we  are  mar-ried, 
What  will  you  do? 
I'll  be  so  tender  and  faithful  to  you ' 


Are  those  the  right  words?  They  sound  good 
enough,  don't  they?" 

"They  sound  lovely,"  he  cried.  But  there  was 
something  lacking  in  his  tone. 

"Sh!  don't  talk  so  loud,  we  shall  wake  Mrs. 
Tucker;  she  sleeps  downstairs."  She  laughed 
softly.  "Things  do  change,  don't  they — who'd 
have  thought  five  minutes  ago?  Naomi  won't 
know  me  when  I  go  hack !" 

"What'll  she  say?    Will  she " 

"What?" 

"Say  you're  foolish?" 

"She  knows  that  already." 

"What — ahout  me?  Why,  does  she  guess, 
then?" 

"What  do  you  think  ?  .  .  .  Naomi  thought  you 
liked  me  the  first  time  you  came.  Did  you?" 


90      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"Of  course  I  did,"  he  said,  though  he  couldn't 
remember  very  clearly.  He  was  conscious  of 
feeling  less  emotion  than  he  would  have  expected, 
conscious  of  being  more  self-possessed.  He  kissed 
her  again,  to  stimulate  his  ardour.  "Well,  is 
she  against  it?" 

"Why  should  she  be?" 

"Only  the  waiting." 

"Oh,  well,  I'm  not  in  a  hurry!  Leastwise " 

He  winced,  and  despised  himself  for  wincing 
while  her  arms  were  round  his  neck.  "You 
should  be  in  a  hurry,"  he  said,  humorously  in- 
dignant. 

"Well,  I  won't  put  it  off  when  you're  ready. 
How's  that?" 

"That's  better.  And  you  won't  get  tired  of 
being  engaged  to  me,  either?  It'll  be  the  longest 
'engagement'  you've  ever  had!" 

"I  say,  I  can  write  and  tell  mother  I've  found 
one  at  last !  Now  ask  me  if  mother's  going  to  be 
against  it.  It'd  make  a  lot  of  difference  if  she 
was.  But  won't  it  suit  her  all  right  to  get  some- 
body to  take  me  off  her  hands !  Best  bit  of  luck 
that's  come  mother's  way  for  a  long  time." 

He  said  meditatively,  "I  don't  think  I  shall 
like  your  mother." 

"I'll  bet  you  do ! — if  you  don't  see  too  much  of 
her.  She's  much  more  popular  in  a  company  than 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      91 

/  am — till  the  tour's  about  half  over.  Then  she 
generally  has  rows.  I  never  knew  mother  to  say 
'no'  to  a  subscription — she's  awfully  good-na- 
tured to  strangers.  .  .  .  What  about  yours  ?  She 
won't  be  keen  on  it,  will  she?" 

"I  don't  know  why  she  should  mind;  we  aren't 
together  as  it  is.  It  won't  make  any  difference 
to  what  I  do  for  her.  ...  I  suppose  I  ought  to 
say  'good-night'?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  assented  grudgingly,  "or 
we  shall  have  Naomi  coming  down  to  see  what 
we're  up  to.  Hullo!  the  candle's  going  out;  it'll 
be  blind  man's  holiday." 

"Can  you  manage  the  door?  .  .  .  I'll  come 
up  with  you  and  get  another  light.  Yes,  I'll  go 
up  again,  too — then  we  can  tell  her  together.  I 
think  I'd  like  to  do  that." 

"Would  you?    What  for?" 

"I  think  I'd  better  do  that,"  he  said. 

The  wick  of  the  candle  stump  had  dropped; 
the  china  glowed  redly  for  a  moment,  and  then 
faded  out  of  view.  She  put  her  hand  on  his, 
cautioning  him  to  "mind  the  step,"  enjoining 
him  "not  to  make  a  noise."  Naomi  was  standing 
by  the  parlour  mantelpiece,  taking  down  her  hair, 
and  jerked  round  as  she  saw  his  reflection  in  the 
glass. 

"You  needn't  mind  him/'  cried  Peggy  hilari- 
ously, "we're  engaged!" 


CHAPTER  VII 

HE  presented  her  with  a  ring  a  few  days  later 
— a  pitiful  ring  that  he  never  noticed  on  her 
finger  without  humiliation — and  his  watch  had 
departed  from  him  again,  this  time  with  the 
chain  attached.  His  cousin  Harold  was  recently 
engaged,  and  once  when  Tatham  went  to  No.  12 
he  saw  the  fiancee  and  the  diamond  she  was 
wearing,  and  pitied  Peggy  quite  superfluously. 
To  her  own  eyes  his  trumpery  gift  looked  intrin- 
sically important. 

He  had  not  been  to  No.  12  often  since  he  was 
a  clerk  in  the  office — the  inquiry,  "Shall  we  see 
you  on  Sunday?"  was  made  at  long,  and  longer 
intervals — and  he  did  not  deem  it  essential  to 
announce  his  love  affair  to  his  relatives.  By  this 
time  he  had  begun  to  question  whether  he  in- 
spired quite  so  warm  a  sense  of  satisfaction  in 
his  uncle  as  he  had  imagined  at  the  start,  and 
discretion  hinted  that  he  was  not  likely  to  in- 
crease approval  by  talking  of  matrimony.  He 
did  not  mention  the  subject,  either,  when  he 
wrote  to  Sweetbay. 

92 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      93 

His  labour  on  the  comedy  he  had  kept  secret 
from  the  first.  The  Spauldings,  he  conjectured, 
would  disapprove  it,  now  that  he  belonged  to 
hops,  and  his  mother  would  ask  in  every  letter — 
long  before  the  rough  draft  was  finished — "what 
day  his  piece  was  to  be  produced."  The  delays 
and  rejections  that  he  foresaw  would  be  bitter 
enough  in  any  case — there  was  no  necessity  to 
make  them  bitterer.  To  the  domestic  circle  of 
the  amateur  a  rejected  manuscript  proclaims  him 
inept  and  vain.  The  amateur's  family  is  unaware 
that  in  the  literature  of  the  world  there  is  no 
masterpiece  which  would  not  have  been  rejected 
in  one  quarter  or  another  if  judged  solely  on  its 
merits. 

Yes,  he  meant  to  spare  himself  that.  Only  in 
Great  Queen  Street  they  heard  his  alternate 
hopes  and  discouragements  while  the  manuscript 
grew  bulkier,  and  by  no  means  always  were  his 
moods  confided  there.  Far  more  frequently 
were  Peggy's  affairs  the  topic.  Within  a  fort- 
night of  the  engagement  her  outlook  brightened. 

"You've  been  lucky  to  me,"  she  exclaimed  one 
day;  "I've  had  an  offer  1" 

She  had  obtained  a  part  in  a  company  that 
was  to  give  its  opening  performance  in  the  Mid- 
lands, and  proceed  distressfully  northward. 


94*      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"You  call  that  'luck'?"  he  complained,  when 
she  had  rattled  details. 

"Oh,  well,  we  shall  be  at  Croydon  for  the  last 
week ;  you'll  be  able  to  see  me  there !"  Her  glance 
was  very  tender,  but  her  gaiety  jarred  him  a 
little.  He  had  to  remind  himself  that  one  must 
expect  an  actress  to  be  happy  at  separation  in 
such  circumstances. 

"When  is  it  you  go  to  Croydon?" 

"I  don't  know  exactly,"  she  said;  "I  haven't 
got  all  the  dates.  I  know  we  do  go  there  for 
the  last  week,  because  I  asked  which  was  our 
nearest  point  to  London.  It's  supposed  to  be  a 
three  months'  tour — that  means,  it'll  be  about 
eleven  weeks  before  I  see  you.  Rotten,  isn't 
it?" 

"It  isn't  very  jolly.  If  I  weren't  so  hard  up 
I  could  go  down  to  you  for  week-ends." 

"Wouldn't  that  be  aU  right!  Well,  you'll 
have  to  come  round  and  talk  to  Naomi  instead. 
I  say!  don't  you  go  making  up  to  Naomi  while 
I'm  away  or  there'll  be  trouble.  My  word!" 

"Don't  talk  like  that!" 

"Oh,  well,  perhaps  she  is  a  bit  too  old  for  you! 
— I  wouldn't  trust  you  if  she  was  my  age,  take 
it  from  me.  If  you  were  here  too  much  while 
I  was  gone  it'd  be  all  up  with  you,  young  man — 
I'd  ask  Mrs.  Tucker  how  long  you'd  stayed  and 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      95 

give  you  jip."  She  leant  towards  him,  laugh- 
ing, coquettish,  amused  by  her  own  spring  of 
humour. 

He  went  with  her  and  Naomi  to  St.  Pancras 
on  a  Sunday  morning  to  say  au  revoir  at  the 
latest  moment  possible,  and  he  found  it  strange 
to  watch  actors  and  actresses  again  straggling 
up  a  station  platform,  and  to  loiter  by  the  win- 
dow of  a  compartment  labelled  "Reserved:  No 
Child  to  Call  Her  'Mother'  Co."  He  was  very 
sorry  that  she  was  going;  he  was  conscious  that 
he  would  miss  her  acutely;  already  London  pre- 
sented in  his  thoughts  some  of  the  vast  forlorn- 
ness  that  had  intimidated  him  before  his  meet- 
ing with  her  in  Long  Acre ;  but,  though  he  didn't 
recognise  the  fact,  and  would  have  been  ashamed 
to  perceive  it,  the  prevailing  melancholy  of  his 
mood  was  not  a  lover's.  She  was  bound  for  the 
life  that  he  had  left!  As  he  stood  there,  waiting 
for  the  train  to  start,  sentiment  had  reached  the 
journey's  end.  Situations  sordid  in  actuality 
were  beautified,  not  by  remembrance  merely,  by 
temperament  itself.  Emotional  to  realise  how 
far  she  and  her  companions  were  about  to  travel 
from  him — in  less  than  two  hours  they  would 
have  reached  another  world! 

"I'll  send  you  a  postcard  to-morrow,  old  boy," 
she  exclaimed,  bending  forward,  but  not  lower- 


96      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

ing  her  voice.  Outside,  he  smiled  and  nodded. 
From  what  incalculable  remoteness  would  the 
postcard  come! 

Naomi  had  more  to  say  to  her  than  he  while 
they  waited.  There  was  a  moment  in  which  he 
realised  wistfully  that  he  would  never  desire  to 
confide  to  her  what  the  scene  had  made  him  feel, 
a  revealing  moment  in  which  he  longed  for  some- 
body who  would  have  understood.  He  was,  how- 
ever, leagues  from  realising  that  not  one  person 
in  a  multitude  would  have  understood,  or  beheld 
more  than  a  posse  of  ill-mannered  persons  de- 
parting for  a  tawdry  sphere. 

"Take  your  seats  there,  please!" 

Girls  thrust  their  heads  through  the  windows 
of  the  labelled  compartments,  with  final  injunc- 
tions. She  called  to  Naomi,  "Don't  forget  to 
send  on  my  blouse — and  mind,  I  shan't  pay  her 
for  washing  it,  because  of  the  things  she's  lost!" 
She  blew  a  kiss  to  him.  "So  long!"  On  the  plat- 
form, hands  were  waved.  One  enthusiast  flour- 
ished a  dirty  handkerchief.  No  man  but  Tatham 
took  off  his  hat. 

"Eleven  weeks'll  soon  go  by,"  said  Naomi  for 
comfort,  as  they  turned. 

"Oh  yes,"  he  concurred  feebly. 

"It'd  have  been  nice  if  she  could  have  got 
something  to  do  in  town.  But  that's  so  difficult." 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      97 

"Of  course.  Yes,  I  shall  miss  her.  So  will 
you,  I  suppose?  I  know,  she'll  always  be  going 
away — I  shall  have  to  get  used  to  it." 

They  walked  out  of  the  station,  along  the  Sun- 
day morning  dullness  of  the  streets.  She  was 
removing,  for  financial  reasons,  to  other  lodg- 
ings, Mrs.  Tucker  having  objected  to  "cut  up 
her  let." 

"It'd  have  done  you  good  to  have  someone  to 
talk  to  while  she  was  gone,"  she  said;  "but  I  can't 
ask  you  to  come  round,  because  I  shall  only  have 
one  room." 

"I  know,"  he  answered.  "I'm  sorry."  Peggy 
had  told  him  that,  affecting  humorously  to  be 
much  relieved.  "Yes,  I  shall  be  pretty  lonely 
without  you  both;  it'll  be  as  bad  as  ever,  and 
worse." 

It  was  as  bad  as  ever  as  soon  as  they  had  sep- 
arated. Doughty  Street  looked  desolate.  He 
spent  the  afternoon  re-reading  his  manuscript — 
he  had  no  heart  to  continue  writing  it — and  won- 
dered again  if  it  was  destined  to  open  a  career 
to  him,  and  how  long  he  must  expect  to  wait  for 
the  verdict  from  the  Pall  Mall  Theatre,  where 
he  meant  to  send  it  first. 

The  manuscript  was  now  the  only  company 
that  he  had  on  any  evening.  There  was  no  one 
for  him  to  rush  to,  exultant,  on  the  great  night 


98      THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

when  the  play  was  finished  at  last  and  he  be- 
lieved that  never,  were  he  to  write  for  years, 
could  he  do  better  work  than  this  that  lay  accom- 
plished on  the  table.  That  other  people  might 
do  so  he  admitted,  but  not  he — it  was  the  best 
of  which  he  would  ever  be  capable!  His  gaze 
dwelt  approvingly  on  the  last  words  that  he  had 
traced.  Not  so  long  ago  he  had  foreseen  his  last 
words  scribbled  at  white  heat  on  the  final  page; 
they  had  been  inserted  with  meticulous  delibera- 
tion on  page  3 — an  insignificant  amendment  to 
which  he  had  devoted  an  hour's  consideration. 
No,  there  was  no  one  for  him  to  tell;  but  the 
attic  penned  him,  and,  going  out  for  a  brisk  turn 
round  Mecklenburgh  Square,  he  tramped  ex- 
citedly to  Hampstead  Heath. 

One  benefit  had  accrued  to  him  from  Peggy's 
absence — he  had  been  enabled  to  store  shillings 
in  sufficient  numbers  to  face  the  outlay  for  type- 
writing that  was  necessary;  all  the  morning  his 
manuscript  lay  concealed  in  the  City,  and  he 
sped  with  it  to  a  typist  in  the  luncheon  hour. 
The  sensation  of  the  "double  life"  was  over- 
whelming. 

And  when  he  had  nerved  himself  to  sully  the 
imposing  neatness  of  that  typescript  by  copper- 
plate corrections,  when  it  had  been  wrapped  in 
a  new  sheet  of  brown  paper,  and  directed  pains- 


33HE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER      99 

takingly  and  he  handed  it  across  a  post  office 
counter,  there  was  a  little  thrill  in  the  reflection 
that  the  girl  who  registered  it  must  reverently 
guess  he  was  a  dramatist. 

"What  time  will  it  be  delivered?'*  he  asked 
her. 

"Oh,  some  time  this  afternoon,"  said  the  girl 
shortly. 

She  pitched  his  comedy  into  a  basket. 


BOOK  II 

CHAPTER  I 

THANKS  to  the  ease  with  which  human  nature 
can  avert  its  eyes  from  the  uncomplimentary, 
Time  is  referred  to  exclusively  as  the  "healer." 
That  it  is  the  cynic  that  mocks  love,  friendship, 
ideals,  and  various  virtues,  believed  to  be  lifelong 
while  they  absorb  us,  we  prefer  to  ignore.  Time 
— no  larger  a  slice  of  it  than  three  years — had 
taught  Christopher  Tatham  to  remember  his  first 
comedy,  when  he  remembered  it  at  all,  with 
amused  contempt.  The  emotions  that  it  had 
brought  were  dead.  He  marvelled  that  once  he 
had  been  so  absurd  as  to  fancy  the  work  was 
good.  In  fine,  though  he  was  still  a  clerk,  aspir- 
ing vainly  to  prove  himself  a  playwright,  Chris- 
topher Tatham  had  learnt  a  good  deal  of  his 
craft.  But  the  emotions  that  he  scorned  had 
been  Youth — and  Time,  the  double-faced,  had 
taken  while  it  gave. 

Marriage,  often  discussed,  was  still  a  distant 
prospect.  His  income  remained  ridiculously  in- 

101 


102    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

adequate  to  support  a  mother  and  a  wife  as  well. 
This,  despite  a  recent  increase  in  his  salary. 
Once  the  girl  had  proposed  that  she  should 
"keep  on  acting"  after  they  married,  but,  even 
so,  she  would  depend  on  his  support  during  more 
than  half  the  year,  for  her  own  salaries  were, 
not  merely  few,  but  pitifully  small.  Once,  too, 
oppressed  by  the  gloom  of  the  outlook,  he  had 
offered  to  release  her  from  her  promise;  her 
blithe  refusal  of  his  proffered  sacrifice  had,  in 
truth,  rejoiced  him  less  than  he  wished  to  think. 
Of  the  attitude  of  Mrs.  Harper,  now  that  he 
had  at  last  met  her,  Tatham  was  far  from  com- 
plaining. Her  professional  sojourn  in  Australia 
had  been  prolonged  so  much  beyond  the  period 
foreseen  that  she  had  returned  to  London,  cheer- 
ful with  brief  prosperity,  only  a  few  months 
since.  Facing  a  presentation  that  he  would 
gladly  have  avoided,  he  had  met,  to  his  relief,  a 
stout,  merry  little  woman,  whose  informal  wel- 
come had  banished  his  restraint  almost  at  once. 
Cordial  to  him  on  his  first  visit,  she  now  appeared 
to  entertain  for  him  feelings  that  approached* 
affection;  and  never  had  he  witnessed  in  her 
manner  towards  her  daughter  anything  to  ex- 
plain the  girl's  earlier  comments  upon  her.  On 
the  contrary,  he  had  occasionally  been  jarred  in 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    103 

noting  a  lack  of  suavity  in  Peggy's  tone  towards 
her  mother. 

"Oh,  because  mother's  taken  to  you,  you  think 
she's  an  angel,"  said  the  girl  a  shade  sullenly, 
when  he  dropped  a  hint  to  her  on  the  subject. 
"She's  a  good  deal  better  since  she's  been  back, 
but  she's  no  treat  to  live  with,  all  the  same,  I  give 
you  my  word  I" 

The  three  years  had  made  little  change  in 
Peggy  Harper.  She  had  still  the  same  girlish, 
rather  vacuous  expression,  the  same  lithe  slip  of 
a  figure.  Professionally  she  asserted  that  she 
was  eighteen,  and  so  young  did  she  look,  and  so 
constantly  was  the  assertion  repeated,  that 
Tatham  often  noted  with  amusement  that  she 
and  her  mother  had  come  near  to  believing  it. 
When  he  was  lamenting  his  position  to  Mrs.1 
Harper  one  afternoon — he  had  found  her  alone 
— "Why,  Peggy's  only  a  child,"  she  laughed. 
"Bless  the  boy,  you  needn't  worry  about  the 
'waiting'  yet;  if  you  don't  get  married  for  five 
years  to  come,  there'll  be  plenty  of  time  left  for 
your  matrimonial  squabbles.  What  is  it  you're 
frightened  of — somebody  else  running  off  with 
her?" 

"I'm  not  frightened;  I'm  depressed,"  he  said. 

"Care  killed  a  cat. 


104    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

'Laugh,  and  the  world  laughs  with  you; 
Weep,  and  you  weep  alone !' " 

She  quoted  with  over-emphasis,  but  feeling,  and 
paused  questioningly,  as  if  for  an  audience  to 
applaud  her.  "You  aren't  the  first  author  that's 
had  the  hump.  They've  all  had  to  go  through 
the  same  thing — the  best  of  them.  And,  take  it 
from  me,  it  was  never  so  easy  for  a  young  writer 
to  get  a  chance  on  the  stage  as  it  is  to-day." 

"Easy?"  His  mind's  eye  saw  forlornly  into  a 
corner  drawer,  where  tattered  comedies  lay.  He 
looked  round  the  long  circle  that  each  of  them 
had  travelled,  growing  gradually  shabbier,  till  it 
had  been  buried  in  the  corner  drawer  at  last.  "It 
was  never  so  expensive  as  it  is  to-day;  I  wish  the 
typewriter  hadn't  been  invented!" 

She  nodded.  "I've  seen  a  bit.  Lord!  twenty- 
five,  thirty  years  ago,  when  they  used  to  say 
there  was  a  'dramatic  ring,'  you  could  count  the 
dramatists  on  one  hand.  Nobody  else  had  a 
look  in.  They  didn't  give  a  new  man  a  chance 
in  those  days,  not  once  in  a  blue  moon.  Now, 
why,  they  produce  go-as-you-please  plays  by 
amateurs  all  over  the  shop !  You  don't  have  to 
know  anything  like  as  much  about  your  business, 
to  get  a  piece  produced  now,  as  you  had  to  know 
when  I  was  a  girl.  I  can  tell  you  that,  young 
man!"  She  was  suddenly  self-important;  the 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    105 

sharpness  of  vexation  in  her  voice  made  him  won- 
der what  he  had  said  to  annoy  her.  "Don't  you 
run  away  with  the  idea  that,  because  Betsy  Har- 
per isn't  a  star,  she's  never  known  anything  bet- 
ter than  the  kind  of  crowds  you  see  her  play  in 
now!  Well,  you  haven't  seen  me  play  yet,  but 
you  shall,  some  time,  if  you're  good.  I  want  you 
to  see  me  in  a  good  part,  the  first  time  you  do 
come — a  Mrs.  John  Wood  part,  that's  my  line. 
My  God!  if  somebody'd  write  me  a  part  like 
Lady  Twombley  in  The  Cabinet  Minister  I'd 
make  things  hum !  No,  don't  you  run  away  with 
that  idea,  Master  Tatham.  There  was  a  time, 

'There  was  a  time  when  all  I  touched  turned  gold, 
When  friends  flocked  merrily  to  taste  my  bounty !' 

You  don't  know  who  wrote  that  ?  Clement  Scott. 
Let  me  see.  It  was  when  he  was  editing  The 
Theatre.  That  wasn't  yesterday.  You  were  in 
your  cradle. 

'I  never  turned  a  dog  into  the  cold, 
Nor  let  the  poor  go  starving  to  the  County.' 

Yes,  there  was  a  time  when  I  knew  people  who've 
gone  to  the  top  since  then.  I've  heard  'em  talk! 
Millington  used  to  come  in  to  supper  with  us, 
long  before  his  burlesques  were  the  rage — when 
he  was  selling  pen'orths  of  pins  over  his  father's 
counter  in  Camden  Town.  He  had  something  to 


106    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

say,  too.  Worse  than  you,  he  was.  I  remember 
his  first  pantomime,  one  Christmas  Eve,  in  Bir- 
mingham— awful  mess  he  made  of  it!  He  came 
to  dinner  with  us  the  next  day  and  opened  the 
window  and  wanted  to  throw  himself  out.  We 
had  to  hang  on  to  him  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
with  the  snow  blowing  in  on  the  goose.  I  know" 
— she  beamed  at  him,  with  a  world  of  meaning — 
"authors  can't  help  it ;  you're  a  rotten  lot,  every 
one  of  you — all  hump  before  you  get  on,  and  all 
swelled  head  afterwards.  When  you've  had  a 
West  End  run,  you'll  swank  over  better  men 
than  yourself.  Yes,  you,  my  modest  violet  1" 

"Don't  you  believe  it.  If  I  ever  do  get  a  West 
End  run,  I  shall  remember  what  I've  been 
through." 

"Oh,  you'll  remember  right  enough.  Trust 
you!  They  all  remember,  that's  what  makes 
them  so  damned  offensive — they  want  to  get  a 
bit  of  their  own  back.  Authors?  If  I  didn't 
like  you  such  a  lot,  I'd  never  be  fool  enough  to 
let  Peggy  marry  an  author,  I'd  rather  see  her 
marry  an  actor — and  that's  saying  something. 
Oh,  I  met  somebody  who  knows  you  this  week — 
Galbraith." 

"Galbraith!"  he  exclaimed.  "Do  you  know 
him?  How  is  he?" 

"Do  I  know  him?"  echoed  Betsy  Harper. 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    107 

"These  kids  asking  me  if  I  know  Galbraith!  I 
knew  him  before  London  knew  him.  I  knew 
Galbraith  when  his  part  was  'The  carriage  waits, 
my  lord.'  If  you  come  in  and  have  a  bit  of  steak 
with  us  on  Sunday  evening  you'll  see  him." 

It  was  in  North  Crescent,  Bloomsbury,  where 
the  Harpers  were  lodging,  that  his  Sunday  eve- 
nings were  generally  spent  now;  and  there  on 
the  Sunday  following  he  met  the  actor  to  whom 
he  had  once  confided  his  fear  of  being  compelled 
to  leave  "the  profession."  Galbraith's  sparse 
hair  was  whiter,  his  shoulders  drooped  a  little 
more,  but  it  seemed  to  Tatham  that  the  refined, 
clean-shaven  face  had  altered  not  at  all.  Very 
few  persons,  ignorant  of  the  man's  vice,  would 
have  suspected  it  by  his  appearance,  which, 
thanks  to  the  long  intervals  of  rigid  abstinence, 
remained  a  gentleman's. 

"So  you  hadn't  forgotten  me,  Galbraith.  It's 
a  long  time  ago !" 

"I  didn't  know  you'd  ever  been  in  a  crowd 
with  Galbraith,"  chirruped  Peggy.  "You  never 
told  me.  When  was  it?" 

"In  the  brave  days  when  we  were  twenty- 
one,"  said  Galbraith,  "eh?  Of  course,  we  were 
the  bright  particular  stars,  Tatham  and  I!  Do 
you  remember  that  beautiful,  soul-stirring  bit  of 
bombast,  Tatham,  that  always  brought  a  round, 


108    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

when  I  took  a  step  back  and  looked  at  the  gal- 
lery?" 

"I  daresay  I  remember  it  better  than  you  do 
by  now,"  laughed  Tatham. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder — I've  spouted  such  a  lot 
of  stuff  just  as  rotten  since.  Betsy,  when  you 
played  'Nan'  and  I  was  'Young  Mr.  Simpson/ 
and  thought  you  a  great  actress — the  illusions  of 
youth " 

"Hit  him  for  me,  somebody!"  said  Mrs.  Har- 
per. 

"Why  did  you,  with  the  giddy  impulse  of  a 
kindly  heart,  encourage  me  to  persevere  on  a 
path  that  has  led  me  to  the  slough  of  second- 
class  shows  in  third-class  towns?  Now,  you've 
done  better  by  this  fellow,  you've  taken  him  off 
it!" 

"Me?"  she  cried. 

"Oh,  that  wasn't  mother!" 

"Oh,  that  wasn't  'mother'?  I  thought  it 
sounded  practical  for  Betsy!" 

"That  was  the  mother  of  invention — I  got  off 
it  while  Mrs.  Harper  was  shining  in  Australia." 

"I  did  shine,  too,  don't  make  any  mistake  about 
that !  I  wish  I'd  stopped  there — I  don't  see  much 
chance  over  here.  Know  anybody  who  wants  me, 
Galbraith?" 

Galbraith  smiled  pensively.     "He'll  be  writ- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    109 

ing  parts  for  us  all  by-and-by !  Don't  forget  me, 
your  old  pal,  Tatham.  Give  me  a  nice  comfort- 
able part  with  nothing  to  do  in  the  last  act,  so 
that  I  can  get  home  to  bed  early.  I'm  not  greedy 
any  more,  I  don't  want  to  be  in  the  picture  at 
the  end ;  a  part  that's  the  centre  of  attraction  for 
three  acts,  and  carries  a  big  salary,  will  be  good 
enough  for  me  to-day." 

"Who  told  you  he  was  writing?  Mother,  of 
course.  She  would!"  said  the  girl  tartly. 

"And  why  shouldn't  I?  Is  it  a  State  secret? 
'Mother,  of  course'!  Why  not?  Is  there  any 
particular  reason  why  he  shouldn't  be  told?" 

"Talking  about  things  before  there's  anything 
to  say!  That's  just  mother.  If  you  hear  of  an 
ofF-chance  of  a  part,  it's  'Peggy's  going  out  to 
play  it!'  I  don't  believe  in  counting  your 
chickens  before  they're  hatched,  nor  does  Chris; 
it's  unlucky." 

"Oh,  telling  Galbraith  isn't  counting  chickens," 
he  interposed  hurriedly;  "he  understands.  I'm 
one  of  the  Great  Unacted,  Galbraith,  that's  all. 
Do  you  ever  come  across  anybody  I  know,  any 
of  the  people  who  were  with  us?  I  never  see  any 
of  them  advertise.  By  the  way,  what's  Miss 
Knight  doing  now,  Peggy?" 

"Naomi?  She  was  going  out  with  some  show 
or  other,  the  last  time  she  was  here.  I  suppose 


110    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

she's  on  tour.  I  hope  so ;  things  have  been  awful 
with  her." 

"She's  got  no  talent,"  observed  Mrs.  Harper; 
"she  can't  act  for  nuts,  that  young  woman.  I 
don't  know  how  she  expects  to  do  any  good." 

Tatham  remembered  Naomi  Knight  making  a 
similar  comment  upon  others. 

"I  don't  know  how  anybody  expects  to  do  any 
good,  if  it  comes  to  that.  I'd  rather  be  anywhere 
than  on  the  stage,  myself,"  returned  her  daugh- 
ter; and  the  servant,  who  had  come  in  with  the 
steak,  showed  no  surprise.  They  were  in  "pro- 
fessional apartments,"  and  she  had  overheard 
the  sentiments  of  more  than  one  actress  in  her 
time. 

"Help  yourself  to  beer,  Galbraith." 

"No  beer  for  me  to-day,"  said  Galbraith 
casually,  "I'll  have  water — I've  had  a  touch  of 
liver." 

"Oh,  go  on,  a  glass  of  beer  won't  hurt  you!" 
exclaimed  the  hostess. 

"What  do  you  press  him  for,  mother,  when 
he  says  it  isn't  good  for  him?"  remonstrated  the 
girl  sharply — much  too  sharply  for  her  to  sound 
ignorant  of  the  truth.  "Will  you  have  some 
soda,  Galbraith?  Chris,  you  might  bring  that 
syphon  over." 

It  was  acutely  painful  to  Tatham  to  know  the 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    111 

man  fearful  even  to  taste  ale  lest  it  should  in- 
flame his  tendency  to  excess ;  but  Galbraith,  who 
was  once  more  strictly  virtuous,  owing  to  a  re- 
cent disaster,  seemed  to  sup  cheerfully  enough. 
It  was  not  till  he  and  Tatham  were  alone — they 
left  North  Crescent  together — that  a  sigh  es- 
caped him. 

"Very  tactless  of  Betsy  at  supper,  Tatham," 
he  said,  "what?" 

"You  mean ?" 

"Persuading  me  to  take  beer.  It's  awkward 
enough  to  have  to  refuse;  and  then  when  they 
argue  with  you  besides!  If  kind  friends'd  only 
take  'no'  for  an  answer,  when  I'm  behaving  my- 
self, I  shouldn't  lose  so  many  shops.  It's  a  funny 
thing,  though,  you  know,  if  I  had  taken  a  glass 
or  two  this  evening,  it  wouldn't  have  led  to  any 
ill  results.  It's  only  when  I'm  in  an  engagement 
that  I  can't  stop.  I  can  take  a  drink  as  rationally 
as  anybody  else  when  I  haven't  got  to  be  at  the 
theatre  at  night;  I  know  when  I've  had  enough 
then  just  as  well  as  you  do.  But — it's  a  most 
mysterious  thing — the  moment  a  salary  depends 
on  my  keeping  sober,  a  single  drop  is  absolutely 
fatal  to  me ;  it's  like  the  taste  of  blood  to  a  tiger. 
Very  curious,  Tatham,  very  remarkable  that  a 
man  should  be  without  self-control  only  at  the 
times  when  he  has  the  strongest  reasons  for  con- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

trolling  himself?  When  I  was  at  the  Diadem, 
when  I  was  getting  good  terms,  I  once  paid  a 
specialist  two  guineas  just  to  put  that  point  to 
him.  He  said  it  was  Very  extraordinary.'  Of 
course,  I  knew  that  myself.  I  can't  make  it  out. 
Because  it  isn't  as  if  I  were  a  wastrel  and  didn't 
care  whether  I  was  sacked  or  not — it  goes  to  my 
heart  to  think  of  the  chances  I've  thrown  away. 
Nobody  despises  me  when  I  lose  a  shop  so  much 
as  I  despise  myself.  I'm  so  disgusted  with  my 
weakness  that  I  can't  look  at  myself  when  I'm 
shaving — and  yet  there  it  is!  Still,  Betsy 
shouldn't  persuade  me;  it'd  do  her  no  harm  to 
take  to  barley-water." 

"What?"  said  Tatham,  staring  round  at  him. 

"Didn't  you  know?  Oh  yes,  Betsy's  slightly 
inclined  that  way — or  she  used  to  be;  I  don't 
know  how  it  is  with  her  to-day." 

Tatham  kept  pace  with  him  sickly.  This,  then, 
was  what  the  girl  had  meant  by  saying  that  she 
had  much  to  put  up  with.  An  immense  pity  for 
Peggy  engulfed  him,  a  pity  for  Mrs.  Harper. 
Questions,  misgivings  eddied  in  his  mind  during 
the  five  seconds  before  Galbraith  spoke  again. 

"I  don't  mean  that  she's  like  me/J  added  the 
actor  in  a  tone  profoundly  contemptuous  of  him- 
self; "nothing  to Well,  you're  engaged  to 

the  girl!  That's  all  right.  Betsy  isn't  a  'bad 


POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    113 

Case.'  I  wouldn't  have  mentioned  it  if  I'd 
guessed  you  didn't  know.  I'm  sorry  I  let  it 
slip." 

"You  needn't  be.  Poor  little  Peggy!  She 
must  have  a  rough  time.  I  wish  I  could  take  her 
out  of  it.  I'm  so  frightfully  hard  up." 

"In  the  City,"  said  Galbraith,  "aren't  you?" 

"In  the  City?  In  a  clerkship!  I  haven't  got 
a  thing  to  look  forward  to  if  I  don't  strike  oil 
writing.  I  shall  soon  have  been  at  it  for  four 
years !  I  suppose  'four  years'  doesn't  sound  long 
to  the  man  who  listens,  but  it  sounds  a  long  time 
to  the  man  who  works — and  hasn't  got  anything 
to  show  for  it,  except  plays  that  no  one'd  have." 

"Tolmore  was  writing  for  the  best  part  of 
twenty  before  he  did  any  good.  I  used  to  go  in 
and  smoke  a  pipe  with  him  when  they  lived  in 
Featherstone  Buildings.  Jolly  good  chap  he 
was  then.  They've  got  a  flat  in  Pont  Street  now, 
and  he  looks  the  other  way  when  he  sees  me  in 
the  Strand.  I  suppose  you  haven't  got  a  drama 
up  your  sleeve,  have  you?" 

"Why?  Do  you  know  anybody  who'd  take  one 
from  me?"  His  voice  was  fervid.  "I  could  write 
one!  I've  only  done  comedies,  but  I'd  write  a 
drama,  if  there  were  half  a  chance." 

"Well,  people'll  take  my  recommendations 
much  sooner  than  they'll  take  me,  you  know. 


114s    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

I  might  get  Logan  Ross  to  read  it;  I  know  he 
wants  another  drama  to  tour  with.  Of  course," 
he  laughed,  "you  know  what  it'd  have  to  be?" 

"The  kind  of  thing  I  used  to  play  in,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"I  expect  he'd  want  something  more  sensa- 
tional than  that — they're  Olivers  for  sensation 
now.  In  the  country  you  can't  give  them  too 
much  of  it.  You  might  make  some  money — if 
he'd  pay  royalties — but  there'd  be  no  kudos — 
except  among  the  Logan  Rosses;  I  suppose 
they'd  think  it  clever  if  it  drew  the  public." 

"I've  got  to  make  some  money,"  said  Tatham 
doggedly.  "I'll  take  any  job  that  anybody  '11 
give  me.  That's  the  right  point  of  view,  isn't  it? 
I  wouldn't  sit  down  to  write  muck  deliberately 
if  I  had  any  choice,  but  if  I  don't  write,  I  don't 
do  anything  at  all — the  City's  a  cul-de-sac.  I 
can  stick  as  I  am  for  years  to  come.  I'm  tired  of 
it,  I'm  ashamed  of  it.  ...  Is  it  any  use  my  drop- 
ping a  line  to  him?" 

"I'd  better  look  him  up,"  said  Galbraith;  "he 
wouldn't  answer  a  letter.  I'll  have  a  chat  with 
the  gentleman.  Then,  if  he's  on,  you  can  go  and 
see  him  yourself.  You'll  have  to  go  with  an  idea, 
you  know — it's  no  use  your  talking  about  a  play 
if  you've  nothing  to  propose — and  I  shouldn't 
tell  him  you  write  comedies;  don't  mention  the 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

•West  End — that'd  be  nearly  as  fatal  as  if  you 
had  had  a  success  there.  Tell  him  youVe  an 
'inspiration  for  a  money-maker' — that'll  be  ex- 
pressive to  Ross — and  then  gas  about  your  big- 
gest thrill.  I  don't  know  what  there  is  left  to 
think  of,  myself,  but  if  you  can  strike  something 
that  hasn't  been  done  yet,  you'll  hold  his  atten- 
tion. Of  course,  there's  the  risk  of  his  sneaking 
your  idea  and  passing  it  on  to  an  author  he 
knows,  but  he's  pretty  decent  for  a  mummer." 
Eis  voice  was  suddenly  plaintive.  "Between 
ourselves,  Tatham!  I  shouldn't  have  said  that; 
I  think  it's  caddish  to  foul  one's  own  nest.  ,  .  . 
Where  are  you  staying?" 

They  stopped  under  a  lamp-post  while  the 
young  man  pencilled  his  address  on  a  scrap  of 
paper — he  had  recently  removed  to  Berners 
Street;  and  before  they  separated,  Galbraith 
undertook  to  attend  to  the  matter  on  the  morrow. 
As  Tatham  continued  his  way,  however,  his 
thoughts  dwelt  less  on  the  dramatic  prospect  than 
on  the  domestic  revelation.  He  had  not  been 
engaged  for  three  years  without  realising  that 
he  wasn't  in  love  with  Peggy;  but  he  had  been 
conscious  that  he  had  a  duty  to  her.  Heavily  it 
seemed  to  him  that  his  duty  had  never  been  so 
strong  as  now.  He  was  pledged  to  marry  her 
one  day;  he  meant  to  marry  her  one  day.  The 


sooner  the  day  came,  then,  the  better — for  her, 
at  any  rate!  ...  A  rough-and-tumble  drama? 
It  would  be  a  far  stride  from  the  delicate  com- 
edies in  the  drawer,  comedies  which,  Mrs.  Har- 
per always  told  him,  had  the  defect  of  being  in- 
sufficiently theatrical.  Still,  Hobson's  choice — 
assuming  he  were  fortunate  enough  to  gain  the 
chance  at  all!  And  mightn't  it  be  possible  to 
introduce  some  human  nature  even  into  a  rough- 
and-tumble  drama? 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  promise  that  Galbraith  had  made  was  the 
kind  of  promise  that  many  more  reputable  per- 
sons in  his  profession,  and  out  of  it,  would 
promptly  have  forgotten;  Galbraith,  who  had 
broken  vows  innumerable  towards  himself,  kept 
his  word.  A  few  days  later,  Tatham  was  de- 
lighted to  receive  a  note  advising  him  to  call  on 
Mr.  Ross  the  following  evening,  and  he  had  in 
the  interval  evolved  an  idea  which,  if  devoid  of 
startling  novelty,  was  unhackneyed  enough  to 
justify  the  visit.  His  hope  of  palliating  a  crude 
subject  by  the  treatment  that  he  gave  to  it,  he 
decided  to  suppress  in  the  interview. 

Mr.  Logan  Ross's  house — he  referred  to  it  as 
his  "residence" — was  situated  in  Loughborough 
Road,  and  was  furnished  with  no  little  comfort. 
He  was  an  indifferent  actor,  even  judged  by  the 
standard  of  a  bad  school,  but  as  a  manager  he 
had  been  blessed  with  an  instinct  for  providing 
what  his  public  wanted.  Thanks  to  that  ines- 
timable gift,  he  had  made  money.  Of  such  plays 
as  he  occasionally  witnessed  in  the  fashionable 

117 


118    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

theatres  of  London  he  understood  no  more  than 
he  understood  of  literature  or  the  contents  of 
the  National  Gallery;  but,  now  that  instinct  had 
been  supplemented  by  experience,  he  understood, 
as  accurately  as  any  one  man  can  ever  do,  at 
what  point  in  his  own  dramatic  fare  an  audience 
of  the  lower  middle  class  would  shuffle  their  feet 
and  want  a  crime  to  happen — at  what  point  their 
appetites  would  turn  from  crime  to  sentiment; 
he  understood  how  often,  in  the  menu  of  love  and 
murder,  the  savoury  desired  by  every  palate 
would  be  for  the  low  comedian  to  sit  down  on  an 

egg- 

To  such  a  manager,  the  author  of  comedies 
that  were  too  untheatrical  for  their  cleverness  to 
make  speedy  converts  had  arrived  to  propose  a 
melodrama! 

And  the  proposal  found  favour.  It  was,  on 
the  face  of  it,  a  thing  almost  as  strange  as  any 
that  had  happened  in  Mr.  Logan  Ross's  most 
popular  productions.  The  applicant  had  been 
appraised  in  five  minutes,  and  found  wanting; 
the  expert  had  cast  his  large  body  into  an  arm- 
chair and  stretched  his  legs  on  his  hearth  with  an 
unconcealed  yawn.  Melodrama  was  a  science, 
and  he  was  listening  to  an  amateur!  The  story 
had  opened  well  enough  in  some  respects,  but  it 
was  off  the  beaten  track,  and  the  beaten  track 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    119 

was  where  the  money  lay — he  didn't  contemplate 
prospecting.  And  then  there  had  come  one 
nervous  swerve  of  originality,  which  the  appli- 
cant himself  esteemed  less  highly  than  much  that 
had  preceded  it,  and  the  eye  of  experience  saw 
suddenly  the  glitter  of  gold.  This  young  man 
couldn't  do  justice  to  his  notion;  but  he,  Ross, 
could  do  justice  to  it — he  could  cut  and  paste 
and  pull  the  situations  closer  together;  he  could 
knock  out  all  the  reasons  why  people  did  things 
and  make  them  go  and  do  'em  quick!  A  novice 
with  fresh  ideas  might  be  worth  cultivating,  after 
all. 

He  maintained  a  discouraging  silence  when  the 
author  finished  speaking.  .  .  .  "Humph!"  he 
grunted  at  last. 

"You  don't  care  for  it?"  said  Tatham,  trying 
to  sound  indifferent. 

"I  don't  say  there  isn't  anything  in  it,"  ad- 
mitted Ross,  in  the  tone  of  a  man  seeking  to  be 
generous,  and  paused  again. 

Tatham's  idea  of  the  value  of  what  he  had  to 
sell  was  falling  fast.  "Of  course,  I've  told  it 
badly,"  he  murmured. 

"I  don't  say  there  isn't  anything  in  it,"  re- 
peated Ross ;  "some  of  it's  all  right,  but — I  don't 
know — I  don't  know — Galbraith's  a  dear  old  pal 
of  mine,  nobody's  enemy  but  his  own — but  I'll  be 


120    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

perfectly  plain  with  you,  my  dear  chap.  I  can't 
talk  ahout  a  play  that  isn't  written.  I  can't  say 
anything  to-night.  Galbraith  ought  to  know 
that.  If  you  had  put  four  acts  in  front  of  me 
I  could  give  you  an  answer;  I  could  say,  'It's  no 
use  to  me/  or  'It's  a  go.'  You  know  what  a  pro- 
duction by  me  means — people  are  going  to  tum- 
ble over  one  another  to  see  it.  The  respect's  not 
all  on  one  side — I've  got  to  be  very  careful  what 
I  give  'em.  .  .  .  Look  here,  bring  me  your  play 
complete,  and  if  I  like  it,  I  do  it !" 

"What  terms  would  you  pay  for  it?" 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  Ross  engagingly,  "I'll  be 
as  open  as  the  day  with  you.  If  I  like  it,  we 
shan't  quarrel  about  terms ;  if  I'm  not  keen  on  it, 
I  wouldn't  have  it  as  a  gift.  I  can't  say  more 
than  that.  I  can't  settle  terms  till  I've  seen  the 
thing.  I  suppose  you  could  knock  it  off  in  a 
couple  of  months,  eh?" 

"What?" 

"I  don't  know  when  it  would  be  of  any  use  to 
me  if  you  didn't — I'll  want  to  start  rehearsing 
in  a  couple  of  months.  .  .  .  Well,  say  three,  at 
the  outside." 

There  were  cigarettes  and  whisky  and  soda 
before  he  left.  He  left  exhilarated,  persuaded 
that,  after  all,  three  months  was  a  long  time — 
Ross,  who  hadn't  to  create  the  manuscript,  had 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

cheerfully  insisted  that  it  was  a  long  time — and 
it  did  not  shrink  affrightingly  until  some  hours 
later.  When  it  had  begun  to  shrink,  he  was  sur- 
prised to  discover  how  remote  the  conclusion  of 
the  next  three  months  appeared  to  everyone  who 
hadn't  the  work  to  do.  Galbraith  assured  him 
that  he  could  "do  it  on  his  head  by  then,"  and 
Peggy  echoed,  "three  months!"  as  if  it  were  an 
effort  to  project  the  imagination  to  a  date  so 
distant. 

"I  say,"  she  exclaimed  happily  on  another  oc- 
casion, "you'll  be  able  to  get  me  a  shop !  If  Ross 
takes  the  piece,  mind  you  tell  him  he's  to  give  me 
an  engagement  in  it." 

'Yes,  write  a  good  part  for  Peggy,"  chuckled 
her  mother.  "And  don't  forget  Ma!  What's 
the  use  of  having  an  author  in  the  family  if  he 
doesn't  pull  wires  for  us.  What  I  want  is  a  part 
like  'Lady  Twombley,'  so  now  you  know;  I'll 
make  your  piece  a  success  for  you!"  Then,  as 
she  saw  his  embarrassment,  "I'm  only  joking," 
she  laughed.  "Think  you're  talking  to  an  am- 
ateur? Don't  I  know  you  can't  shape  your  play 
to  suit  everybody?" 

"I  daresay  I  could  manage  something  for 
Peggy,"  he  said,  ruminating.  "I'd  like  to  do  it 
for  you,  if  I  could.  .  .  .  I'd  like  to  do  something 
for  Galbraith," 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"Don't  you  make  a  fool  of  yourself!"  she  cried. 
"Well,  Ross  wouldn't  have  him,  if  you  tried  it 
on,  but  don't  you  go  asking  for  trouble.  We  all 
know  what  Galbraith's  little  weakness  is.  You'd 
look  lively  if  he  turned  up  helpless  on  your  first 
night.  No  sentiment  in  business,  my  son — take 
it  from  one  who  knows.  Now  give  Peggy  a  kiss 
and  go  home  to  your  scribbling.  If  you're  stuck 
on  Sunday,  you  can  come  round  and  have  supper 
with  us;  and  if  you're  busy,  we  shan't  expect 
you." 

She  would  not,  as  his  mother-in-law,  win  ap- 
probation at  No.  12 — assuming  that  his  uncle  and 
aunt  ever  invited  her  there — he  knew  it  with  a 
qualm,  just  as  he  knew  what  they  would  think  of 
Peggy  if  they  ever  saw  her;  but,  whatever  her 
faults  might  be,  he  found  her  very  human.  And 
when  he  did  run  round  to  North  Crescent  for 
half  an  hour  now,  it  was  Betsy  Harper,  not  her 
girl,  who  showed  the  livelier  interest  in  hearing 
what  his  progress  had  been.  It  was  she,  not  the 
girl,  who  had  sometimes  a  useful  word  to  say. 
It  occurred  to  him  distressfully  more  than  once 
that  it  was  she,  too,  who  understood  better  what 
it  meant  to  him  to  leave  for  the  office  every  morn- 
ing under  a  weight  that  threatened  to  crush  him 
— not  as  a  clerk,  whose  undistinguished  duties 
had  become  more  or  less  mechanical,  but  as  an 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

author  whose  desperate  strokes  were  stemming 
the  rush  of  time.  And  this  vulgar  and  intem- 
perate little  woman  did  understand  it  better  than 
her  daughter,  was  indeed  vividly  sympathetic  in 
a  situation  where  many  far  superior  persons 
would  have  seen  nothing  but  a  very  ordinary 
young  man  engaged  in  the  prosaic  task  of  trying 
to  make  a  living.  As  a  woman  she  did  not  com- 
plain  of  his  being  natural — she  complained  of  it 
only  as  a  reader. 

It  was  unfortunate  that  impulse  took  him  to 
the  house  on  a  certain  afternoon.  Her  greeting 
was  less  cordial  on  that  day. 

"Hullo!    Peggy's  out,"  she  said. 

"Is  she?  What  a  nuisance!"  But  if  he  was 
sorry  to  miss  her,  his  regret  was  not  so  acute  that 
it  damped  his  anticipation  of  a  pleasant  half- 
hour.  "What  time  will  she  be  back?" 

"Now  you're  asking!"  said  Mrs.  Harper  with 
umbrage.  "When  it  suits  her  ladyship,  I  sup- 
pose. It's  not  for  me  to  be  told  what  time  she'll 
be  back.  There  are  daughters  and  daughters! 
Do  you  know  that,  Mr.  Tatham,  Esquire?" 

"Well,  I  suppose  there  are,"  he  murmured  un- 
comfortably. "Peggy's  a  very  nice  one,  though. 
You  think  so  too." 

She  regarded  him  for  a  moment  in  surly  si- 
lence: "I  think  so  too?  That's  a  funny  thing 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

to  say.    How  do  you  know  what  I  think?    Eh?" 

"Well,  I  hope  you  think  so,  Mrs.  Harper. 
May  I  put  it  like  that?"  He  had  taken  a  seat 
opposite  her,  and  he  got  up,  paling.  Her  con- 
dition was  evident;  he  was  consumed  by  a  desire 
to  escape  without  seeming  to  her  abrupt.  "I 
can't  stop — I  only  ran  in  for  a  moment  to  see 
how  you  were  both  getting  on." 

She  took  no  notice  of  this;  she  repeated  with 
rising  cantankerousness,  "How  do  you  know 
what  I  think?  I  suppose,  because  you're  an 
author,  you  fancy  you  know  all  about  everything, 
don't  you?  An  author?"  Her  laugh  was  deri- 
sive. "A  fine  author  you  are !" 

"Very  eminent,  I  know!  We  needn't  argue 
that  point." 

"Argue?"  Again  her  slow  stare  was  resent- 
ful. "I  don't  argue  with  you.  A  woman  like 
me  argue  with  you?  That's  a  very  impertinent 
remark!  I  don't  argue  with  you;  I  don't  pay 
you  such  a  compliment.  I  tell  you  what  I've  got 
to  say,  I  don't  argue  with  you.  Who  are  you?. 
I  take  no  insults  from  anybody." 

"Insult?"  he  stammered.  "Mrs.  Harper  «  .  . 
Well,  we'll  talk  about  it  another  time." 

"Oh,  dear  me!  'We'll  talk  about  it  another 
time' — spoken  with  dignity — the  actor  crosses 
the  stage!  Perhaps  there  won't  be  any  'other 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    125 

time,5  my  lord  duke ;  that's  for  me  to  say.  These 
are  my  rooms,  I  think?  I  pay  for  these  rooms, 
don't  I? — and  just  who  I  choose  comes  to  them, 
and  nobody  else.  D'ye  see?"  The  quiet  in- 
solence of  her  tone  shrilled  to  passion.  She  was 
all  at  once  a  prey  to  violent,  unreasoning  rage. 
"You  come  here  at  my  good  pleasure.  If  you 
idon't  behave  yourself,  you  don't  set  foot  in  the 
place  again!  D'ye  hear  that?  I  won't  have  you 
here;  I  won't  let  Peggy  marry  you.  Who  are 
you — you  and  your  plays?  Do  you  think  she's 
going  to  spend  her  life  waiting  for  you?  A  girl 
like  her  could  do  better  for  herself  to-morrow 
than  marry  .a  chap  like  you!" 

"That's  so.  If  Peggy  feels  the  same  way 
about  it,  she's  quite  free." 

"Oh,  is  she?"  She  paused;  her  views  veered; 
there  was  infinite  meaning  in  her  alcoholic  bitter- 
ness. "I  dare  say.  Well,  take  care  you  don't 
get  a  breach  of  promise  case,  Mr.  High-and- 
Mighty,  that's  all!  You  can't  play  fast  and 
loose  with  a  girl  of  mine,  don't  you  believe  it. 
Not  much  you  can't!  A  good  girl  she  is,  a  long 
sight  too  good  for  you!  If  she'd  taken  my  ad- 
vice, she'd  have  sent  you  to  the  right-abouts  long 
ago."  She  screamed,  she  was  hideous;  her  in- 
vective pursued  him  to  the  staircase. 

It  was  unfortunate  because  neither  of  them 


SL26    -THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

ever  contrived  to  Banish  the  restraint  that  the 
occurrence  caused.  They  tried  to  talk  as  if  the 
scene  were  forgotten  when,  at  Peggy's  solicita- 
tion, he  went  to  the  house  again ;  but  on  the  man's 
side  there  was  misgiving,  and  on  the  woman's 
there  was  shame,  and  the  familiar  tone  of  con- 
fidence was  never  successfully  re-established.  "I 
can  only  ask  you  to  think  that  mother  wasn't 
well,"  the  girl  had  pleaded.  And  he  had  kissed 
her  very  tenderly,  moved  by  the  undesigned 
pathos  of  the  words — conscience-stricken,  too,  in 
realising  all  that  had  underlain  his  retort  that 
she  was  free  if  she  wished  their  engagement  at 
an  end. 

It  was  at  this  stage  that  the  ordinary  young 
man  ceased  to  make  illusions  for  himself.  He 
no  longer  strove  to  stifle  repentance  with  the 
assertion  that  "though  he  wasn't  in  love,  he  was 
very  fond  of  her."  He  knew  that  the  tenderness 
of  his  kiss  had  been  the  tenderness  of  pity;  he 
saw  clearly  that  he  had  blundered  the  night  that 
ihe  kissed  her  first.  But  he  was  honourable,  or 
weak  enough — the  epithet  varies  with  the  point 
of  view — to  believe  that  he  would  be  a  cad  to 
own  it  to  her.  She  had  waited  for  him  so  long; 
she  had  waited  because  he  had  asked  her  to  wait ! 
The  knowledge  burdened  him.  That  he  had  been 
very  young  when  he  asked  her,  that,  in  looking 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

back,  he  seemed  to  have  been  amazingly  young 
and  mindless,  even  for  his  age,  could  not  liberate 
him,  he  felt.  Ethically,  perhaps,  he  would  be 
doing  her  a  greater  wrong  to  marry  her  than  to 
confess  the  truth;  but  conventionally,  the  worse 
offence  would  be  to  tell  her  so  late  that  he  didn't 
care  for  her.  And  she  would  think  he  was  throw- 
ing her  over  because  her  mother  drank.  Horrible 
to  make  a  girl  feel  that!  .  .  .  Horrible  also  to 
realise  that,  after  marriage,  he  must  often  expect 
to  find  the  mother  quarrelsome  in  her  cups  I 


CHAPTER  III 

WHEN  the  drama  for  Mr.  Logan  Ross  was 
delivered — it  had  been  accomplished  within  three 
atrocious  months — Mr.  Logan  Ross's  pressing 
need  of  it  had  evidently  subsided.  Some  weeks 
passed  before  he  had  leisure  to  read  it.  Com- 
municating curtly  with  the  author  at  last,  he 
offered  to  buy  the  work  outright  for  ten  pounds. 
And  after  an  interval  of  blind  fury,  the  author 
with  equal  curtness  accepted  the  offer. 

"At  any  rate,"  Galbraith  had  said,  "you  get 
your  foot  in — it's  a  production.  However  rotten 
the  price  was,  I  shouldn't  try  to  stand  out  for 
terms  with  a  first  play."  And  Mrs.  Harper  had 
remembered  someone,  subsequently  celebrated, 
who  sold  his  first  comedy  for  a  pound  per  act. 

Yes,  in  view  of  all  the  circumstances,  it  was 
probably  as  much  as  he  would  be  able  to  com- 
mand in  any  quarter,  so  the  offer  was  accepted. 
And  his  chief  desire  now  was  to  receive  the 
cheque  and  never  to  be  reminded  of  his  melo- 
drama again. 

The  hopes  that  he  had  built  on  it  were  dust; 

128 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER     129 

he  told  himself  that  he  didn't  care  a  curse  for  the 
thing  any  more.  He  had  cared  in  writing  it,  had 
in  hours  found  it  absorbing,  even  while  he  called 
himself  a  fool  for  the  pains  he  was  taking  to  em- 
broider shoddy ;  his  efforts  to  redeem  the  plot  by 
characterisation  had  been  too  strenuous  for  him 
to  be  able  to  regard  the  manuscript  simply  as  a 
potboiler.  But  deliberately  he  had  chosen  a  plot 
opposed  to  his  tastes  and  written  to  make  money. 
And  he  was  offered  ten  pounds!  He  solilo- 
quised about  Logan  Ross,  impugning  his  integ- 
rity; he  said,  with  perfect  justice,  that  a  piece 
must  be  worth  more  than  ten  pounds  to  be  worth 
anything  at  all.  lie  told  the  walls  of  the  bed- 
room in  Berners  Street  that  the  manager  whom 
The  Wigan  Examiner  described  as  "a  powerful 
and  romantic  actor"  was  a  strongly  qualified 
thief.  With  that  lack  of  business  intelligence 
which  Mr.  Spaulding  deplored  in  him,  he  failed 
to  differentiate  between  clumsy  or  penal  dis- 
honesty and  dishonesty  on  safe  or  commercial 
lines.  He  was  happy  to  reflect  that  Mr.  Logan 
Ross  would  have  the  impudence  to  seek  no  inter- 
view, after  their  exchange  of  epistolary  brevities. 
Mr.  Ross,  in  the  least  embarrassed  manner  im- 
aginable, wrote  asking  him  to  call  "with  regard 
to  a  few  slight  changes  in  the  scrip.'* 


130 

And  as  the  cheque  wasn't  enclosed  in  the  letter, 
he  swallowed  his  indignation  and  went. 

So  frank  and  free  was  the  manager's  greeting 
that  he  seemed  leagues  from  suspecting  indigna- 
tion. Indeed,  he  spoke  like  one  conscious  of 
having  done  a  noble  deed. 

"It  isn't  right  yet,  Tatham,"  he  declared,  "but 
there's  stuff  in  it — don't  worry.  I  wasn't  going 
to  refuse  it  because  it  wobbled  a  bit.  I  want  to 
give  it  a  chance.  Some  of  it's  A  1 — no  kid! 
I  can  tell  you  what's  wrong;  I'll  tell  you  what  to 
do.  I'm  going  to  put  my  back  into  it  for  you." 

It  appeared  to  be  necessary  to  say  that  he  was 
"very  kind."  Ross,  with  no  ear  for  inflections 
this  evening,  deprecated  gratitude.  "Not  at  all," 
he  murmured,  "not  at  all!"  He  produced  the 
typescript — and  it  seemed  to  have  aged  years  in 
his  possession.  "Now,"  he  said,  and  objected  to 
one  of  the  best  scenes;  "that  won't  do,  of  course." 

"You  think  not?"  said  Tatham  blankly. 

"Fatal,  my  boy!  That  wants  to  come  bang 
out,  and  you've  got  to  write  something  in  its 
place.  Turn  it  over  in  your  mind,  and " 

"Something  in  its  place?" 

"Well,  I  needn't  have  bothered  you  to  come 
over  if  a  cut  was  all  that  was  necessary — I  can 
cut"  replied  Ross  ingratiatingly;  "we  want 
something  written  in  there.  Now  here" — he 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    131 

licked  his  thumb  and  turned  pages  that  revealed 
reckless  scrawls,  the  burns  of  cigarettes,  and 
splashes  of  tea  or  coffee — "now  here  a  cut  will 
do  the  trick.  This  is  in  the  way !  All  very  care- 
fully arranged,  I  know,  but  it's  in  the  way.  The 
audience  don't  want  to  hear  why  he  wasn't 
drowned.  Show  him,  my  boy;  it  doesn't  matter 
how  he  was  saved,  bring  him  on:  'That  I  am 
here  to  prove !'  Terrific  round  of  applause.  See 
what  I  mean?  You  lose  your  grip  if  you  explain 
things,  Tatham.  He's  there!  they  know  damn 
well  he  has  been  saved,  because  there  he  is! 
That's  what  we  want  in  drama.  And  another 
thing Again  he  licked  and  turned. 

It  was  strange:  the  author  had  thought  his 
interest  in  the  play  was  dead,  yet  it  writhed  under 
the  scalpel. 

"Another  thing,"  continued  Ross,  "your  vil- 
lain isn't  really  a  bad  man,  he  only  connives  at 
a  murder — you've  got  to  strengthen  your  vil- 
lain." 

"I  tried  to  make  him  a  human  being." 

"We  don't  want  human  beings,  my  boy,  we 
want  parts.  He  shilly-shallies.  That'll  never 
do;  he  must  be  consistent,  old  chap;  he  mustn't 
have  pangs  of  conscience.  Why,  you've  given 
your  villain  lines  that'd  queer  the  whole  show; 
the  audience  'd  begin  to  be  rather  sorry  for  him! 


132    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

They  don't  want  to  be  sorry  for  the  villain,  they 
want  to  hoot  him.  You'll  have  to  alter  that; 
you'll  have  to  go  over  the  part  again  and  give 
him  more  relish  for  crime." 

"Oh,"  said  Tatham  morosely.  "Is  that  all?" 
"Well,  I'm  going  to  talk  to  you  about  my  own 
part  by-and-by — I  want  to  get  through  the 
smaller  matters  first.  You  can't  expect  to  do  a 
drama  without  a  little  work,  old  chap,  you  know ! 
Yes !  this  scene  in  the  second  act  comes  too  soon, 
it  wants  transferring  to  the  third — you'll  have  to 
turn  the  second  and  third  acts  about  a  bit  to  get 
it  in,  but  it  only  needs  a  little  thinking  out.  And 

there's  a " 

"In  other  words,  you  want  a  different  play?" 
"What  I  want  is  a  few  changes,"  replied  Ross 
with  heat.  "You  don't  mind  making  a  few 
changes  for  the  good  of  your  piece,  I  suppose? 
Z  shall  have  enough  to  do  on  it  when  you're  fin- 
ished! A  different  play?  Who  said  anything 
about  a  'different  play'?  I  say  that  this  one 
needs  improving.  So  it  does." 

"It  needs  rewriting,  by  what  you  tell  me." 
"And  precious  few  plays  are  submitted  that 
don't!" 

"Precious  few  plays  are  sold  for  ten  pounds* 
though."  He  forced  a  pleasanter  tone.  "I've 
no  doubt  your  criticisms  are  all  perfectly  right, 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    13$ 

but  I  can't  afford  the  time.  On  the  whole,  I'd 
rather  let  the  business  slide.'* 

"What's  the  use  of  talking  through  your  hat?" 
demurred  Ross  jocularly.  But  there  was  mis- 
giving in  his  eyes. 

"I'm  quite  serious.  It  doesn't  amount  to  any- 
thing; I  tell  you  frankly  I'd  never  have  done  the 
thing  if  I  had  dreamed  what  you  were  going  to 
offer  for  it.  As  to  doing  it  over  again,  the  mere 
thought  of  the  job  makes  me  feel  sick." 

"Don't  forget  the  kudos  of  a  production,  my 
boy — I  take  you  into  the  Theatre!"  He  ex- 
patiated with  much  wealth  of  imaginative  detail 
upon  the  glory  that  was  included  in  his  offer. 
"And  besides,  a  pound  or  two  more  or  less 
needn't  stand  between  us,"  he  added,  noting  that 
Tatham  looked  obstinate. 

"Will  you  pay  royalties?" 

"Royalties?"  echoed  Ross.  "I  never  paid  roy- 
alties in  my  life.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  I'll 
make  it  fifteen  pounds,  if  you  like.  There!" 

Now  he  was  eager  to  secure  the  piece,  and 
Tatham  was  far  from  eager  to  alter  it.  It  was  a 
situation  in  which  the  advantage  was  for  once 
on  the  author's  side.  But  he  had  gained  the  ad- 
vantage by  no  subtler  means  than  sheer  weari- 
ness of  spirit,  and  when  the  other  repeated, 
"Fifteen  pounds.  Come!  And  you  can  do  all 


134    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

that's  wanted  in  a  week!"  he  answered  limply, 
"Very  well."  Had  he  been  gifted  with  the  fore- 
sight and  ability  to  haggle  with  Ross  for  an  hour, 
the  actor  would  have  agreed  to  pay  a  small  roy- 
alty rather  than  see  those  four  acts  withdrawn 
from  him — and  Christopher  Tatham  would  have 
been  in  possession  of  a  comfortable  income  for 
many  years. 

The  dilapidated  typescript  sprawled  worth- 
lessly on  the  couch.  Even  the  expert  who  had 
been  attracted  by  it  would  not  have  backed  his 
fancy  by  a  hundred  pounds  cash.  To  estimate 
the  commercial  value  of  a  play  before  the  pro- 
duction is  as  exact  a  science  as  to  judge  the  po- 
tential value  of  a  lottery  ticket  before  the  draw- 
ing— it  may  be  a  fortune,  or  wastepaper. 

There  were  other  interviews  with  Ross.  He 
was  not  satisfied  with  the  title  that  the  author 
had  chosen,  nor  was  he  satisfied  with  any  of  his 
own  discovery.  It  was  speedily  evident  that  he 
expected  Tatham  to  be  as  vitally  interested  by 
the  matter  as  if  they  had  been  in  partnership; 
and,  to  do  the  man  justice,  he  was  hospitable. 
There  were  long  evenings  passed  in  the  society 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ross — an  amiable  and  foolish 
little  woman  who,  when  the  actor  made  her  ac- 
quaintance, had  been  a  fairy  in  a  pantomime — 
during  which  a  title  was  sought  with  an  assiduity 


.THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    185 

thai  entailed  frequent  refreshments.  The  host's 
consuming  desire  was  to  combine  the  words 
"London"  and  "Girl"  in  naming  the  drama — 
both,  he  declared,  were  "lucky" —  and  one  o'clock 
used  to  strike  while  the  problem  remained  un- 
solved. Tatham's  proposal,  "A  London  Girl," 
had  been  dismissed  as  much  too  tame  for  a  play- 
bill. Mrs.  Ross,  simpering,  had  cried  trium- 
phantly, "I  know!  'A  Girl  in  London.' '  It  was 
the  kind  of  suggestion  that  she  usually  con- 
tributed. 

"What  do  you  think  of  TDon't  Let  Your  Girl 
Go  to  London'  ?"  Ross  inquired  one  night. 

Tatham  said  candidly  what  he  thought,  and 
Ross  relapsed  into  gloom.  "Well,  it  amounts  to 
this,"  he  said,  "we  can't  have  both!  It's  got  to 
be  'London'  or  it's  got  to  be  'Girl.'  " 

"I  like  'Girl/  "  chirped  the  lady. 

".Yes,  well,  I  like  'London,'  "  said  her  hus- 
band. "Look  here,  Tatham,  what  the  title's  got 
to  do  is  paint  a  picture  of  London  as  it — as  it — 
to  paint  the  whole  blooming  city.  See  what  I 
mean?  It's  got  to  make  the  public  think  of  Lon- 
don as  it  jolly  well  looks  to  a  girl  who's  left  her 
home  and  walks  down  the  Strand,  or  wherever 
you  like,  without  a  penny  in  her  pocket,  asking 
herself  what  the  devil  she's  to  do  for  food  and 
shelter.  I  want  the  public  to  stand  looking  at 


186    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

our  bill  in  the  High  Street  and  thinking  to  them- 
selves, 'Ah  me !  Yes,  indeed !'  See  what  I  mean? 
I  want  every  young  woman  that  reads  the  bill  to 
put  herself  in  the  girl's  place  for  a  moment;  I 
want  every  old  woman  that  reads  it  to  think  of 
her  own  girl  up  in  London.  'Aye,  and  what 
about  our  Annie?'  Then  we've  got  their  bobs — 
we  pull  'em  in  to  see  the  show  that  week  I  Do 
you  like  'Heartless  London'?  No — give  us  the 
cigars  over  here,  Ruby ! — no,  that  doesn't  hit  the 
spot.  'A  Lassie  in  London'  ?  How  do  you  like 
'A  Lassie  in  London'  ?" 

"She  isn't  a  lassie,"  said  Tatham.  "What  do 
you  think  of  'A  Girl  Against  the  World'?" 

Ross  shook  his  head.    "I  want  'London'!'* 
'  'London  as  it  Really  Is'  ?"  said  the  ex-fairy. 

"Rotten!"  he  growled.  '"Yet  London 
Laughs.'  Eh?  'Yet  London  Laughs'!  It's 
good?" 

"What  does  it  mean?"  said  Tatham. 

"Mean?  It  means  the  heartlessness  of  Lon- 
don, of  course!  'Yet  London  Laughs';  in  spite 
of  everything — in  spite  of  that  poor  girl's  suffer- 
ings, London  laughs!"  He  sighed.  "If  you 
didn't  see  what  it  meant,  it's  off — a  title's  got  to 
shout,  or  there's  nothing  in  it.  I  want  a  title 
that's  going  to  bring  the  wickedness  of  London 
before  every  pair  of  eyes  in  the  provinces,  I 


JHE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

want  to  turn  the  West  End,  and  the  East  End, 
and  the  whole  bally  caboodle  inside  out  in  three 
• — I've  got  it!"  A  smile  of  beatitude  overspread 
his  face.  "Don't  worry,  my  boy,  don't  worry; 
we  needn't  talk  any  more,  I've  got  it!  'London 
Inside  Out.'  " 

And  to  "London  Inside  Out"  he  clung.  Tat- 
nam  made  many  attempts  both  on  that  evening 
and  in  their  subsequent  meetings  to  persuade  him 
to  change  it — even  going  so  far  as  to  devise  alter- 
native titles  as  an  inducement — but  Ross  was 
resolute.  It  mightn't  be  a  "literary"  title,  he 
admitted;  as  to  that,  he  "knew  nothing  and  cared 
less ;  there  was  money  in  it,  and  money  was  what 
he  was  on  the  road  for!" 

It  was  not  the  sole  source  of  argument. 
Peggy,  fortunately,  was  again  employed  in  an- 
other tour  of  No  CJuld  to  Call  Her  "Mother" 
when  the  time  came  for  his  company  to  be 
formed;  but  Galbraith  had  appeared  in  Berners 
Street  one  Sunday  morning,  before  the  author 
was  out  of  bed,  to  beseech  him  to  "use  his  influ- 
ence" with  Ross.  Scrupulously  shaved,  and  neat, 
but  shabby  with  a  shabbiness  that  was  tragic,  the 
suppliant  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  explaining 
that  he  had  approached  Ross  vainly  for  an  en- 
gagement, and  confessing  to  despair.  The  dan- 
ger of  entrusting  a  part  to  him  was  so  widely 


138    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

known  that  his  chance  of  obtaining  work  grew 
slenderer  yearly,  and  he  unfolded  a  piteous  tale 
of  borrowed  sixpences  and  destitution.  Sol- 
emnly he  swore  that,  this  time,  confidence  in  him 
shouldn't  be  misplaced.  "I've  had  my  punish- 
ment, Tatham,"  he  faltered.  "If  you  knew  all 
I've  been  through  the  last  six  weeks  you  wouldn't 
doubt  me ;  there  are  things  that  nobody  ever  for- 
gets. I — I  slept  in  a  registered  lodging-house 
one  night ;  another  night,  I  slept  on  the  Embank- 
ment. By  God,  boy,  if  you'll  do  what  you  can 
for  me,  I'll  deserve  it;  I  can't  say  any  more." 
His  voice  broke. 

Not  even  in  the  urgency  of  his  need  did  he 
hint,  "You  owe  it  to  me  for  introducing  you  to 
Ross!" 

Tatham  leant  forward  and  gripped  his  hand. 
There  were  tears  in  the  eyes  of  both  men.  "I'll 
move  heaven  and  earth  for  you,  Galbraith,"  he 
said;  "I'll  go  and  see  him  this  afternoon!"  Much 
of  the  sum  that  had  been  paid  for  the  play  was 
in  a  pocket  of  the  clothes  that  were  heaped  on 
the  chair,  and  he  thrust  a  five-pound  note  upon 
Galbraith.  But  the  man  wouldn't  accept  it; 
after  much  parley  he  consented  to  borrow  a  sov- 
ereign. They  went  out  together  for  a  steak  at 
the  Horseshoe;  and  when  they  had  returned  to 
Berners  Street,  Tatham  left  him  in  the  bedroom 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

with  some  cigarettes,  and  departed  fervidly  for 
Loughborough  Road. 

On  the  tedious  journey  his  sense  of  eloquence 
abated  somewhat.  When  he  found  strangers  in 
the  drawing-room  the  additional  delay  reduced 
his  confidence  still  more.  Ross  was  plainly 
mystified  by  his  arrival,  for  his  visits  at  the 
"residence,"  though  frequent,  had  hitherto  al- 
ways been  expected,  and  the  embarrassment  of 
intrusion  weighted  his  tongue.  He  made  per- 
functory replies,  but  contributed  no  comments  to 
the  conversation,  which  was  concerned  with  the 
iniquities  of  the  "bricks-and-mortar  managers." 
It  was  his  earliest  intimation  that  a  "bricks-and- 
mortar  manager"  signified  the  lessee  of  a  theatre 
in  which  a  touring  company  performed. 

Presently  he  had  a  word  apart  with  Ross,  and 
they  withdrew.  "Excuse  me  for  a  moment, 
boys,"  said  Ross,  and  led  the  way  to  the  dining- 
room.  "What  is  it,  old  chap?" 

"Well,  I'm  awfully  sorry  to  disturb  you,  but 
I've  come  to  ask  you  to  do  something  as  a  special 
favour  to  me,"  began  Tatham.  "Galbraith  tells 
me  you're  afraid  of  engaging  him.  Now  I've 
been  with  him  all  the  morning;  he's  in  frightfully 
low  water,  and  I  assure  you  he's  to  be  trusted — 
I  know  what  I'm  talking  about.  You  couldn't 
have  a  better  man  for  'Colonel  Forrester,'  he'd 


140    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

be  excellent  in  the  part.  I  want  you  to  let  him 
have  it." 

"Not  on  your  life!'*  said  Ross.  "I  know  all 
about  Galbraith.  I  know  very  well  what  he 
could  do  with  the  part — he's  a  jolly  good  actor; 
but  I  wouldn't  have  him  as  a  gift." 

"Yes ;  well,  I  want  you  to  reconsider  your  de- 
cision. He's  a  friend  of  mine.  I've  promised 
him  to  beg  you  to  give  him  another  chance.  Now 
look  here " 

"My  dear  chap/*  interrupted  Ross  firmly,  "I'd 
do  anything  that  I  could  to  oblige  you  with 
pleasure,  but " 

"You  can  do  this!" 

"But  you're  asking  an  impossibility!  Gal- 
braith? He's  a  pal  of  mine,  too.  I  like  old 
Galbraith  very  much — out  of  business;  in  it,  I 
wouldn't  have  him  at  any  price.  It's  no  use,  my 
boy!  I  gave  him  a  chance  when  he  was  on  his 
uppers;  he  took  his  sacred  oath  he'd  keep  his 
word  if  I  tried  him  again.  What  happened? 
He  was  blind  to  the  world  on  the  first  night  in 
Bolton,  before  we'd  been  out  three  weeks!  He 
means  it  right  enough  to-day;  he's  chock-full  of 
good  intentions  while  he  talks,  but  he  can't  help 
himself;  he's  a  madman — before  the  tour's  half- 
way through  it's  the  same  thing  all  over  again." 


JHE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    141 

"I've  seen  him  touch  nothing  but  water  for 
months." 

"How  many?  Two's  his  record,  ain't  it? 
He'll  be  steady  for  a  bit,  I  know,  but  he  can't 
keep  it  up;  all  of  a  sudden  he  rolls  on  to  the 
stage  something  horrible;  it's  a  mystery  to  me 
how  he  manages  to  remember  a  word  of  his  lines 
—if  he  hadn't  been  in  the  profession  all  his  life, 
he'd  be  dumb,  the  state  he  gets  in!  I  tell  you 
straight,  Tatham,  I  wouldn't  have  him  if  he  paid 
me,  I  wouldn't  have  him  if  he  offered  a  pre- 
mium." 

They  had  not  sat  down;  they  were  standing 
near  the  door,  and  he  turned  towards  it  with  an 
air  of  finality.  In  his  own  interests,  Tatham 
would  have  found  no  more  to  say,  but  in  Gal- 
braith's  he  wouldn't  accept  dismissal.  The 
thought  of  the  man's  suspense  in  the  bedroom, 
as  the  hours  wore  by,  of  his  wretchedness  if  he 
must  be  told  at  last  that  the  embassy  had  failed, 
spurred  him  to  persistence  in  the  face  of  defeat. 
He  intercepted  Ross,  he  spoke  vehemently  of 
its  being  a  crisis  in  a  mutual  friend's  life.  Under 
the  stress  of  feeling,  rather  unusual  phrases  came 
to  his  lips,  and  he  was  conscious  and  a  little 
ashamed  of  sounding  theatrical  while  he  pleaded. 
Ross  did  not  seem  to  be  aware  of  it ;  he  listened, 
frowning  and  restless,  and  there  were  signs  of 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

irresolution  in  his  aspect  now.  Then  Tatham 
stumbled  on  the  word  "sentiment,"  and  the  actor 
was  immediately  defensive. 

"No  one's  got  more  sentiment  than  me,"  he 
cried.  "Sentiment?  I'm  the  last  man  in  the 
world  to  accuse  of  having  no  sentiment !" 

"Well,  listen  to  it  to-day;  don't  be  hard  to  a 
poor  devil  who's  on  the  rocks!  You'll  be  sorry 
if  you  are — you'll  always  be  sorry  afterwards. 
If  I  have  to  go  back  and  tell  him  you  refuse — 
well,  Galbraith's  desperate;  on  my  honour,  he's 
desperate!  He's  been  sleeping  on  a  bench  on 
the  Embankment.  Suppose  he  makes  away  with 
himself  to-night — more  unlikely  things  have  hap- 
pened— how  will  you  feel?  A  man  you've  been 
pals  with  for  years?"  .  .  . 

Ross  blinked;  his  swimming  eyes  sought  a 
highly-coloured  oleograph  on  the  wall. 

"You'll  always  remember  you  could  have  pre- 
vented it!  You'll  never  forget  that  a  message 
from  you  to-day  would  have  saved  him,  set  him 
on  his  feet,  given  him  a  chance  to  turn  over  a 
new  leaf!" 

"It's  a  very  unfair  thing,"  said  Ross  tremu- 
lously, "for  you  to  come  and  talk  to  me  this  way. 
Yes,  it  is,  a  damned  unfair  thing! — you  aren't 
entitled  to  ask  me  to  give  him  the  part.  You 
aren't  risking  anything;  it  won't  cost  you  any- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER     148 

thing  if  he  ruins  the  piece — it's  my  property, 
you've  sold  it  right  out.'* 

The  advocate  paused  blankly.  Then  "I  know 
I'm  not  entitled,"  he  said.  "I'm  asking  it  as  a 
fine  action,  as  a  generosity;  I'm  appealing  to 
your  heart!"  With  a  touch  of  inspiration,  he 
added,  "to  your  sentiment  1'* 

Ross  gave  in.  He  yielded  reluctantly,  but  he 
yielded — and  the  gesture  by  which  he  proclaimed 
his  unfailing  sentiment's  response  was  worthy  of 
a  large  audience. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WITH  that  incident  the  author's  association 
with  a  melodrama  from  which  every  higher  qual- 
ity had  been  eliminated  would  practically  have 
closed  but  for  the  gratitude  of  Galbraith.  To 
attend  the  rehearsals,  even  had  he  wished  to  at- 
tend them,  would  have  been  impossible  for  a 
dramatist  who  sat  every  week-day  driving  a 
clerk's  pen,  and  it  was  only  by  Galbraith  that  he 
was  reminded  of  the  play.  Encouraged  by  his 
proximity  to  a  salary,  the  "Colonel  Forrester" 
of  the  cast  had  succumbed  to  the  offer  of  a  fur- 
ther sovereign  to  supply  immediate  necessaries 
and  improve  his  attire.  An  elderly  figure  in  the 
frock-coat  that  had  been  released  from  the  pawn- 
broker's, he  presented  himself  in  Berners  Street 
on  many  evenings  before  the  tour  began ;  and  it 
was  he  who  wrote  to  Tatham  after  the  opening 
night,  announcing  that  the  piece  had  "gone  like 
a  house  afire." 

To  the  man  who  had  written  the  piece  the  news 
seemed  extraordinary  and  well-nigh  incredible. 
So  far  from  rejoicing  at  it,  since  he  had  neither, 

144 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    145 

a  pecuniary  nor  an  artistic  interest  in  its  fate, 
his  thoughts  turned  bitterly  to  the  despised  man- 
uscripts, for  which  he  had  hoped  and  prayed.  If 
it  had  heen  one  of  those  that  had  "gone  like  a 
house  afire"  ?  What  it  would  have  meant !  Even 
if  he  had  been  such  a  consummate  ass  as  to  sell 
it  for  fifteen  pounds,  wouldn't  he  be  rapturous, 
wouldn't  he  have  trod  Oxford  Street  to-night 
thanking  God  for  the  position  that  the  success 
had  given  to  him!  There  would  have  been  repu- 
tation then,  there  would  have  been  a  future. 
This  meant  nothing — nothing  but  the  satisfac- 
tion of  Ross,  who  as  yet  had  not  written  to  ex- 
press it,  and  the  chance  of  perpetrating  similar 
trash  at  better  terms.  He  had  done  with  trash. 
Never  such  fustian  again ! 

The  fools!  A  rush  of  disgust  for  the  crowds 
whom  it  was  delighting  made  him  see  red.  He 
was  unjust,  he  was  unreasonable — he  had 
planned  his  play  for  the  majority,  and  they  had 
welcomed  it,  he  should  have  been  grateful  to 
them;  but  the  artist  who  wept  for  two  of  his 
children  in  the  corner  drawer — just  two,  to  be 
exact,  the  latest  additions  to  the  mortuary — 
could  behold  nothing  but  the  irony  of  a  very 
commonplace  situation. 

A  very  commonplace  situation,  indeed,  in  its 
essentials.  But  time  emphasised  it;  the  drawing 


146    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

power  of  London  Inside  Out  proved  to  be  con- 
spicuous even  among  attractions  of  its  class. 
From  the  reports  of  the  correspondents  of  the 
theatrical  organs,  which  Mrs.  Harper  flourished 
at  him  when  he  paid  duty  visits,  Tatham  learnt 
only  that  the  drama  had  been  "enthusiastically 
received"  in  the  towns  where  it  was  performed; 
but  a  second  letter  from  Galbraith  apprised  him 
that  Ross  was  jubilant,  and  that  there  was  every 
likelihood  of  the  tour  being  extended  much  be- 
yond the  period  foreseen. 

In  a  narrative  of  humdrum  humanity,  let  the 
reader  be  refreshed  by  an  event  that  savours  of 
the  sensational  and  preposterous — Galbraith  had 
enclosed  a  postal  order  for  the  two  pounds;  an 
unsuccessful  actor  had  repaid  a  loan ! 

The  author  of  an  entertainment  that  was 
launched  on  a  career  of  financial  splendour  in 
the  provinces  continued  to  contemplate  the  wall 
and  the  water-pipe,  among  other  clerks,  who  had 
no  suspicion  of  his  achievement.  At  once 
ashamed  of  the  work  and  of  the  price  he  had 
obtained  for  it,  he  spoke  of  it  to  no  one,  not  even 
to  his  mother  when  at  Easter  he  went  to  Sweet- 
bay  at  a  reduced  fare  and  spent  Sunday  and 
much  of  Monday  in  the  boarding  house.  Con- 
stitutionally incapable  of  keeping  any  secrets  but 
her  own,  she  would  surely  have  announced  the 


matter  to  his  Regent's  Park  relatives,  and  he 
shrank  from  the  thought  of  the  questions  that 
they  all  would  ask  him.  He  compromised  with  a 
sense  of  unfilial  reticence  by  remarking  that  she 
stood  in  need  of  a  new  dress  and  giving  her  the 
money  to  have  one  made.  The  windfall  elated 
her  the  more  because  the  Spauldings  had  given 
her  money  for  a  dress  the  previous  afternoon — 
arriving  in  their  own  car,  when  all  the  boarders 
were  on  the  steps ;  and  after  he  had  gone  she  lost 
his  present  at  bridge  with  a  vivacious  incapacity 
for  the  game. 

No,  he  mentioned  the  play  in  no  quarter,  and 
when  a  few  weeks  had  passed  he  did  not  hear  of 
it  any  more,  until  a  letter  from  Peggy  revived 
the  subject.  The  letter  was  headed  "Grand 
Theatre,"  and  she  wrote,  "London  Inside  Out 
is  against  us  at  the  Royal  here  and  doing  all  the 
business.  What  ho!  (Our  houses  are  simply 
rotten.)  I'm  going  to  scramble  to-morrow  and 
get  round  in  time  to  see  a  bit  of  it.  One  of  our 
crowd  met  somebody  in  the  show  yesterday  and 
heard  that  it  is  an  enormous  go  everywhere.  I 
say!  if  you  had  got  royalties — what?  Well,  bet- 
ter luck  next  time,  old  boy!  Naomi  is  joining 
our  crowd.  There  was  a  fortnight's  notice  in  the 
air,  and  I  got  wind  of  it,  and  gave  her  the  tip. 
Won't  it  be  jolly?  This  is  a  married  crowd, 


148    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

pretty  nearly,  and  I  haven't  made  a  pal  in  it." 
She  remained,  with  endearments,  his  Constant 
Sweetheart. 

It  was  by  far  the  most  spontaneous  letter  that 
she  had  written  to  him  for  a  very  long  time.  The 
weekly  correspondence  strained  her  inventive 
faculties  a  great  deal,  for  ordinarily  there  was 
nothing  new  to  say,  and  she  found  it  a  most 
wearisome  effort  to  cover  a  sheet  of  notepaper. 
She  had  arranged  that  when  she  was  away  she 
would  write  to  him  every  Monday,  but  often  her 
letter  was  dated  "Thursday,"  and  even  when 
Thursday  had  come  and  the  necessity  could  be 
postponed  no  longer,  she  confronted  it  with  very 
ill  grace. 

The  posters  of  London  Inside  Out  on  the 
walls  of  the  Lancashire  town,  however,  had  de- 
lighted her  for  more  than  one  reason.  Not  only 
were  they  a  promise  of  material  for  her  letter 
this  week,  they  made  her  more  interesting  in  the 
eyes  of  her  companions — she  was  engaged  to  the 
"Christopher  Tatham"  whose  name  was  to  be 
detected  in  small  type  on  the  playbills.  Of 
course,  she  had  announced  the  name  of  her  fiance 
as  soon  as  the  piece  was  presented,  exhibiting 
the  notice  in  The  Stage  that  announced  its 
"enthusiastic  reception,"  but  now  her  importance 
was  driven  home.  The  leading  lady,  whose 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    149 

amiability  had  hitherto  had  a  touch  of  condescen- 
sion in  it,  was  calling  her  "dear'*  quite  warmly, 
and  even  old  Miss  Baker,  who  asserted  that  she 
had  been  with  Barry  Sullivan  and  was  overbear- 
ing towards  everybody  else,  grew  cordial  to  her. 

"I'm  going  to  see  a  bit  of  London  Inside  Out 
to-night,"  she  told  a  young  actor  as  they  stood 
chatting  in  the  wings.  "I  wish  they'd  play  up ; 
ten  minutes  is  about  as  much  as  I  shall  get  of  it, 
at  this  rate!" 

"I'm  going,"  said  Mr.  Nelson;  his  part  con- 
cluded a  few  moments  before  her  own;  "we'll  go 
together,  if  you  like.  Don't  take  too  long  chang- 
ing, though!"  He  was  not  one  of  the  married 
members  of  the  company  to  wThom  she  had  re- 
ferred; he  was  a  pleasant-faced  boy  not  much 
older  than  herself,  though,  as  an  actor,  he  already 
told  falsehoods  about  his  age.  "They  were  chock- 
a-block  there  last  night,  eh?" 

"Rather!"  she  said.  "All  right,  bang  at  the 
dressing-room  door  when  you're  ready.  I  shan't 
be  long.  I  mean  to  get  round  before  they  finish, 
if  I  break  my  neck  to  do  it." 

"I  expect  you'll  see  more  of  it  than  you  want 
before  long,  eh?" 

"Why,  how  do  you  mean?" 

"The  'best  boy  of  all'  will  be  getting  you 
shopped  in  it  soon,  I  suppose?  Look  at  her  con- 


150    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

scious  smile !  What's  the  use  of  loving  an  author 
if  he  can't  work  engagements  for  us,  eh?  Yahr 
mercenary!  You'll  leave  us  for  a  better  shop 
than  this  one,  I  het!"  He  improvised,  to  an  im- 
aginary guitar: 

"Then  she  left  us  for  a  better  shop  than  this  one, 
Then  she  chucked  the  little  crowd  that  loved  her  true; 

Though  the  tears  were  in  our  eyes, 

She  forsook  us  for  a  rise, 
She  departed  for  a  difference  in  the  screw!" 

She  thought  how  amusing  he  was.  "Silly 
idiot!"  she  laughed. 

"I  don't  blame  you!  A  faithful  heart  is 
broken,  but  what's  a  heart  compared  to  <£  s.  D.l 
You  girls  were  ever  thus. 

'Then  she  left  us  for  a  better  shop  than  this  one ' 

Is  my  hated  rival  very  handsome,  Peggy?" 

"A  jolly  sight  handsomer  than  you,"  she 
chaffed  back. 

"Go  on!  If  you'd  met  me  first,  he  wouldn't 
have  had  a  chance,  not  a  glimmer.  I  can  read 
your  secret  in  your  gaze — you  struggle,  Peg- 
gums.  That's  what  you  do,  you  struggle  between 

love  and  lucre.    Lucre  cops  the  pool,  but " 

"You'll  cop  a  box  on  the  ears  if  you  don't  look 
out,"  she  giggled. 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    151 

"Your  fair  hand  smite  me,  that  little  rose- 
leaf?" 

"The  little  rose-leaf  can  come  down  pretty 
hard,  I  can  tell  you,"  she  said,  enjoying  herself. 
She  brought  the  palm  of  her  hand  in  contact  with 
his  cheek,  smartly  enough  to  be  a  pretended  blow, 
lightly  enough  to  be  a  caress.  His  sprightliness 
appealed  to  her  warmly;  she  regretted  that,  at 
the  next  instant,  her  cue  was  spoken.  "Hullo!" 
She  darted.  "Bang— don't  forget!" 

It  was  five  minutes  to  ten  when  she  returned 
to  the  dressing-room  and  tore  off  her  costume. 
She  rubbed  the  cocoa-nut  oil  on  her  make-up, 
and  snatched  at  the  grease-soaked  rag,  and 
plunged  her  face  into  the  basin,  exhilaratingly 
conscious  that  the  other  occupants  of  the  room 
knew  the  explanation  of  her  frantic  haste.  His 
knock  was  heard  before  she  was  ready,  and  some- 
body cried,  "There  he  is,  let  me  hook  you,  dear!" 
with  enthusiasm. 

They  sped  down  the  alley,  into  Caledonia 
Road,  in  high  spirits.  Exchanging  pleasantries 
in  the  darkness  of  the  Market  Square,  her  escort 
lunged  at  invisible  opponents,  and  challenged 
her  to  race  him  to  the  pavement.  It  was  much 
jollier  than  if  she  had  been  making  the  expedi- 
tion alone. 

"Nelson!  behave  yourself,"  she  laughed  as  they 


152    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

panted  to  the  theatre  steps.  Then,  at  the  box 
office,  "May  we  go  in?"  she  asked  hurriedly; 
"we're  at  the  Grand."  The  delay  while  their 
cards  were  submitted  to  the  local  or  the  touring 
business  manager — both  gentlemen  were  in  the 
buffet — was  exasperating. 

The  last  act  was  two-thirds  over  as  the  late- 
comers stole  into  the  dress  circle  and  descried 
vacant  seats  in  a  bad  position,  which  were  to  be 
reached  without  disturbing  anyone.  The  lights 
in  the  auditorium  were  lowered ;  but  even  so,  she 
could  see  that  the  pit  and  pit-stalls  were  packed; 
and  a  few  seconds  later  a  burst  of  applause  over- 
head informed  her,  by  its  volume,  that  the  upper 
tiers  were  crowded  too.  She  was  deliciously 
proud  of  her  engagement  as  Nelson  nudged  her, 
whispering,  "What  a  house!" 

Her  remembrance  of  the  manuscript  was  too 
hazy  for  her  to  grasp  the  situation  on  the  stage 
at  once,  but  soon  one  of  the  characters  exclaimed, 
""The  Colonel  is  coming  back!"  and  she  knew  she 
was  to  see  Galbraith.  Vaguely  she  was  conscious 
of  a  stir  of  discomposure  among  the  people  on 
her  other  side ;  almost  at  the  same  instant,  an  in- 
articulate but  ironical  greeting  from  the  gallery 
struck  her  with  dismay;  and  then  Galbraith  en- 
tered, treading  the  stage  with  slow  uncertainty, 
the  ponderous  gait  of  an  experienced  actor  fight- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

ing  to  conceal  intoxication.  He  spoke,  and  she 
heard  him  dizzily;  the  words  that  he  uttered 
reached  her  through  a  fog  of  horror,  muffled,  in- 
coherent. Jeers  from  the  gallery  accompanied 
him.  She  held  her  breath,  and  perceived  that  the 
other  actors  on  the  stage  were  gagging,  antici- 
pating their  cues,  doing  their  utmost  to  accelerate 
the  conclusion  of  his  scene.  Brief  as  it  was,  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  it  would  never  end.  The  gal- 
lery approved  his  exit  by  shrill  whistles. 

"This  comes  of  helping  a  pal!"  she  gasped. 
She  turned  to  Nelson,  trembling.  Her  face  wag 
colourless,  it  startled  him.  For  an  instant  he  had 
been  almost  as  aghast  as  she,  but  his  own  con- 
sternation had  yielded  to  amusement;  he  had 
failed  to  realise  the  fiancee's  point  of  view.  Now 
he  strove  to  look  sympathetically  indignant,  and 
patted  her  arm  consolingly. 

She  was  as  furious  as  if  she  had  been  Ross 
himself;  she  quivered  with  a  sense  of  personal 
injury.  Mortified,  she  wished  that  Nelson  had 
come  in  on  the  previous  evening,  or  on  the  mor- 
row ;  she  had  foreseen  his  returning  to  tell  every- 
one how  magnificently  the  show  had  gone,  and, 
of  all  nights,  Galbraith  must  select  to-night  to 
make  a  fiasco  of  it  1  So  little  attention  could  she 
pay  to  the  rest  of  the  act,  that  she  was  aware  of 
nothing  more  than  Ross's  attitude  as  the  curtain 


154    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

fell;  and  in  the  streets,  during  a  walk  that  was 
very  dull,  she  kept  insisting,  "Of  course,  it  was 
nothing  to  do  with  the  piece,  you  know;  they  ate 
the  piece — it  was  only  Galbraith  they  were  guy- 
ing!" 

For  once  she  was  impatient  to  write  to  Tat- 
ham.  She  wrote  again  on  the  following  day  and 
gave  him  such  a  highly-coloured  account  of  Gal- 
braith's  condition  that  he  wondered  sadly  how 
the  fourth  act  of  the  play  could  have  been 
reached  at  all.  From  the  man  he  heard  nothing; 
nor  did  he  add  to  abasement  by  inquiries.  But 
from  the  provincial  columns  of  the  theatrical 
paper  at  which  he  had  the  interest  to  glance,  he 
learnt  soon  afterwards  that  an  "excellent  rendi- 
tion of  'Colonel  Forrester'  was  supplied  by  Mr. 
Lionel  Stott." 

The  discharged  actor  did  not  reappear  in  Ber- 
ners  Street.  Whether  he  was  back  in  London, 
but  too  much  ashamed  to  call,  whether  he  was  to' 
be  seen  despairing  in  the  professional  haunts  of 
Liverpool  or  Manchester,  or  whether  the  work- 
house had  hidden  him,  Tatham  had  no  idea.  On 
several  Saturday  afternoons  he  took  his  way  to 
the  Strand  in  the  hope  of  information,  but  the 
neighbourhood  revealed  no  more  than  one  ac- 
quaintance— and  he  was  relieved  that  their  eyes 
did  not  meet.  Elsie  Lane  was  entering  an 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

agent's  doorway.  The  quiet-voiced  girl  who  a 
few  years  earlier  had  suggested  a  vicarage  to  his 
mind  was  painted  like  a  harlot.  The  sight  dis- 
tressed him  poignantly,  the  shock  of  it  was  in  his 
mood  all  day;  and  for  months  the  remembrance 
of  the  change  in  her  moved  his  thoughts  to  sicker 
horror  than  the  descent  of  Galbraith  himself. 

Meanwhile  resident  theatrical  managers  in  the 
provinces  awaited  the  arrival  of  London  Inside 
Out  with  such  keen  financial  interest  that  Logan 
Ross  projected  the  formation  of  a  second  com- 
pany to  perform  the  piece,  and  urgent  letters, 
marked  "Immediate,  please  forward,"  reached 
Tatham  from  many  actors  and  actresses  with 
whom  he  had  been  associated  formerly,  and  from 
many  others  of  whom  he  had  never  before  heard. 
They  pleaded  for  engagements,  and  they  ap- 
pealed to  him  for  loans.  The  clerk  who  had  sold 
his  play  for  fifteen  pounds  was  entreated  to 
"extend  a  helping  hand  to  less  fortunate  fellow- 
artists,  now  that  he  was  a  dramatist  enjoying 
prosperity." 


CHAPTER  y 

ON  an  autumn  afternoon  and  the  first  day  of 
his  annual  vacation,  a  city  clerk  descended  from 
a  third-class  compartment  to  the  platform  of 
one  of  the  last  towns  in  the  kingdom  that  any 
rational  Londoner  might  have  been  expected  to 
choose  as  the  scene  of  a  holiday.  And  as  he 
strode  from  the  station  and  viewed  the  utilitarian 
ugliness  of  the  place,  he  beheld  his  boyhood  too; 
and  the  spirit  of  a  time  that  had  seemed  immeas- 
urably behind  and  dead  beyond  the  hope  of  resur- 
rection came  floating  on  the  murky  atmosphere 
to  welcome  him,  lifting  his  spirit  with  a  caress. 

Which  reveals  to  the  mental  eye  that  Chris- 
topher Tatham  was  not  a  rational  Londoner,  as 
"rational  Londoners"  are  estimated  by  the  sound 
majority.  There  are  moments,  however,  in  which 
the  possession  of  a  temperament  will  yield  de- 
lights unattainable  by  any  bank  balance.  Ridic- 
ulous as  it  might  be  to  derive  emotions  from  a 
cobbled  and  very  squalid  High  Street,  and  tall 
chimneys  that  belched  black  smoke  into  a  dismal 
sky,  this  tripper  was  more  moved  by  the  pros- 

Ul 


VTHE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    157 

pect  than  if  he  had  tripped  for  "a  week  in  Gay 
Ostend." 

In  a  shop  window  that  he  passed,  a  playbill  of 
his  drama  was  suspended,  above  mounds  of  mar- 
garine ;  on  a  hoarding,  a  crudely  executed  poster 
depicted  a  wildly  sensational  episode  in  the  third 
act.  The  quotation  from  the  drama,  printed 
beneath  the  picture  in  striking  capitals,  was  un- 
familiar to  him.  What  had  brought  him  to  the 
town?  No  affection  for  the  piece,  certainly,  yet 
certainly  a  strong  curiosity  about  it.  Never  had 
he  witnessed  a  performance  of  this  play,  which, 
thanks  to  the  expert's  cuts  and  changes,  had 
achieved  such  popularity  that  scores  of  struggling 
players  imagined  its  author  to  be  prosperous. 
For  once  he  meant  to  see  it.  He  didn't  know 
that  he  was  particularly  wishful  to  see  Ross ;  he 
was  not  sure  that  he  would  announce  his  pres- 
ence to  the  gentleman.  On  the  journey,  his  in- 
tention had  been  to  pay  for  a  low-priced  seat  this 
evening  and  to  proceed  to  Sweetbay  on  the  mor- 
row— vaguely  it  was  his  intention  still.  But  as 
he  walked,  he  was  increasingly  aware  of  the 
past's  embrace  in  the  grim  manufacturing  spot 
svhose  like  he  had  not  trodden  since  a  stage-door 
slammed  behind  him  for  the  last  time.  Half  de- 
riding the  idea,  half  yielding  to  it,  he  began  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  margarine  to  ask  him- 


158    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPEB 

self  whether  he  might  not  pass  as  many  as  three 
or  four  days  of  his  holiday  here. 

His  pace  slackened.  If  he  were,  indeed,  to 
remain  for  more  than  a  night,  the  Black  Bull 
would  be  too  expensive  for  him,  and  he  must  seek 
a  lodging-house  instead.  He  felicitated  himself 
that  the  bag  he  carried  had  been  packed  in  ig- 
norance of  railway  connections — his  freedom  was 
unfettered  in  a  sufficiency  of  shirts.  But  he  had 
no  idea  where  the  lodgings  lay,  and  he  remem- 
bered well  that  bags  had  a  habit  of  developing 
weight  while  one  explored.  The  Black  Bull 
booked  him  after  all. 

It  had  been  advertised  as  a  "Family  and  Com- 
mercial Hotel,"  but  he  saw  only  the  commercials 
when  he  dined,  and  failed  to  enjoy  their  table 
manners.  Practical  men,  these  "travellers,"  cast 
upon  the  unlovely  scene  by  no  caprice,  and  eager 
to  do  good  business  and  be  gone,  yet  Mr.  Tatham 
cavilled  at  their  company.  Partly  it  may  have 
been — so  poor  is  the  texture  of  our  reasons  when 
examined  I — because,  in  moments,  he  was  con- 
scious how  widely  they  would  grin  at  him,  could 
they  see  into  his  sentimental  mood. 

If  he  had  lingered  for  apple-and-blackberry 
tart,  instead  of  rising  so  speedily  for  a  stroll  and 
a  cigarette,  his  errant  footsteps  would  not  have 
brought  him  to  the  illuminated  frontage  of  the 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

Theatre  Royal  and  Opera  House  within  a  few 
minutes  of  its  doors  opening;  and  if  he  had 
reached  it  some  moments  later  than  he  did,  Mr. 
Logan  Ross,  who  was  exchanging  financial 
opinions  with  the  red-faced  local  business  man- 
ager before  proceeding  to  a  dressing-room  to  don 
the  immaculate  flannels  and  "wing"  collar  in 
which  he  leapt  on  to  the  stage  from  a  punt,  would 
not  have  started  and  halloed.  As  it  was,  the  ex- 
cursionist found  himself  shaking  a  large  cordial 
hand,  and  trying  to  convey  that  his  arrival  in  the 
town  was  quite  unconnected  with  play-going,  in 
fact  purely  fortuitous  and  unforeseen,  almost 
before  he  realised  what  had  happened. 

Ross  didn't  write  grateful  letters,  Ross  didn't 
say,  "You're  making  a  small  fortune  for  me,  God 
bless  you !"  but  Ross  was  unf eignedly  friendly  in 
his  greeting.  He  exclaimed  that  he  had  been 
wondering  for  months  why  the  excursionist  had 
"never  turned  up,"  and  presented  him  to  the 
local  business  manager  as  "my  friend,  Mr.  Tat- 
ham,  the  author  of  the  piece."  And  the  local 
business  manager  said,  "Pleased  to  meet  you, 
Mr.  Tatham,"  with  deference.  The  author  of 
the  most  psychological  play  that  ever  deserved 
cultured  encomiums  and  ran  in  the  West  End 
for  a  fortnight  had  never  heard  the  note  of  re- 
spect that  weighted  the  local  business  manager's 


salutation  to  the  author  of  London  Inside 

"You're  coming  in  to  see  the  show,  Mr.  Tat- 
ham?"  he  asked,  as  one  who  craved  a  favour* 

"Well,  yes,"  Tatham  admitted,  "I  did  mean 
to," 

"He  hasn't  been  near  us  since  we've  been  out. 
|What  do  you  think  of  that?"  said  Ross.  "You 
can  find  a  box  for  Mr.  Tatham,  can't  you, 
Fischer?  Well,  I  must  bolt,  old  chap!  Come 
round  afterwards ;  come  round  to  my  room.  So 
long!" 

Mr.  Fischer,  with  alacrity,  found  a  box;  Tat- 
ham sat  in  it  in  state.  Every  member  of  the  cast 
threw  a  glance  of  curiosity  towards  it  within  two 
minutes  of  appearing  on  the  stage;  the  eyes  of 
every  actor  and  actress  sought  his  face  surrepti- 
tiously throughout  the  evening,  eager  to  divine 
his  impressions. 

And  the  piece  went  amazing :  stupendous  were 
the  cheers  and  whistles.  The  fervid  mass  of  oper- 
atives, small  shopkeepers,  mechanics,  the  rows  of 
villa  residents  in  the  circle,  where  the  ladies'  at- 
tire approached  the  smartness  of  semi-evening 
dresses,  were  out  for  pleasure.  No  task  of  theirs 
to  query  whether  such  an  "accumulation  of  stag- 
gerers" could  happen  to  any  one  hero  in  real  life ; 
they  did  not  go  to  the  theatre  to  remember  real 
life — a  strenuous  or  dreary  affair  at  the  best. 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    161 

Whole-heartedly  they  paid  for  theatre  tickets 
to  see  life  falsified,  as  Belgravia,  and  Blooms- 
bury,  and  Balham  paid  for  theatre  tickets — and, 
library  subscriptions — to  see  life  falsified.  More 
unsophisticated  than  Londoners,  they  were  to  be 
charmed  by  falsehoods  more  highly  coloured; 
but,  less  self-conscious,  they  told  no  falsehoods 
to  themselves — they  did  not  seek  to  disguise  their 
stolid  indifference  for  all  the  arts  by  thinking 
they  were  art  devotees  because  they  enjoyed  go- 
ing to  the  play.  And  the  gale  of  mirth  when  a 
fly-catcher  stuck  to  the  low  comedian — a  gener- 
ous soul  who  kept  pretending  that  he  couldn't 
detach  himself  from  it  for  as  long  as  the  last 
little  girl  in  the  pit  would  titter  1  And  the  storm 
of  execration  for  the  villain!  And  the  appetite 
for  refreshments — insatiable  I  "A  triumph  for 
all  concerned,"  as  the  local  Advertiser  had  stated 
in  its  criticism. 

But  The  Post's  notice  had  yet  to  appear — and 
on  the  previous  evening  the  "triumph"  had  de- 
jected The  Post's  representative  even  more  pro- 
foundly than  most  of  the  performances  that  it 
was  her  novel  duty  to  attend  when  no  one  else  on 
the  staff  was  free  to  go.  Very  happily  and 
proudly  had  she  joined  the  staff  a  few  months 
earlier;  it  was  the  first  opportunity  that  she  had 
found  to  earn  a  salary,  though  her  pen  had 


16«    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

brought  small  cheques  to  her  time  and  again. 
iVery  happily,  too,  had  she  learnt  that  it  would 
sometimes  be  her  task  to  "do"  the  theatre.  To 
write  dramatic  criticism — how  interesting!  It 
had  been  with  a  shock  that  she  realised,  instructed 
by  a  blue  pencil  and  the  powers,  that  locally 
"dramatic  criticism'*  meant  indiscriminate  praise. 
"What  use  is  that?"  she  had  dared,  dismayed. 
"It's  useful  to  the  advertisement  columns,"  she 
was  answered;  "it's  what's  expected.  See?" 

She  had  seen,  and  being  a  sensible  young 
woman  had  done  her  best  to  obey.  But  dramatic 
criticism  as  practised  on  The  Post  had  speedily 
ceased  to  be  interesting  to  her.  It  became  detest- 
able; and  though  she  was  not  aware  of  the  fact, 
and  though  the  editor-and-proprietor  had  as  yet 
received  no  more  than  one  complaint,  the  per- 
functory praise  had  been  diluted  with  so  much 
truth  that  her  feeble  "best"  had  aroused  deep 
indignation  in  the  mind  of  the  manager  of  the 
Theatre  Royal  and  Opera  House.  "Whenever 
that  girl  came  in,  the  show  would  be  a  blank  sight 
better  off  without  The  Post's  notice!"  he  was 
wont  to  exclaim  heatedly. 

She  was  the  eldest  daughter  of  a  parson  in  the 
country — a  man  who  had  a  large  family  and  a 
small  living,  and  whose  embarrassments  with  the 
tradespeople  were  not  appreciably  relieved  by 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    163 

the  manuscripts  which,  at  long  intervals,  he  dis- 
patched to  publishers  in  London.  Compliments, 
but  little  pudding,  they  brought — those  tributes 
to  Nature,  achieved  in  an  overworked  parson's 
scanty  leisure;  and  the  compliments  were  not 
uttered  by  his  parishioners,  who  had  barely  heard 
of  them.  "Squire"  had  received  one  and  had 
acknowledged  it  politely,  if  late;  but  "Squire" 
had  received  many  circulars  which  interested  him 
no  less.  Theodosia's  thoughts  had  turned  to  her 
father's  neglected  books,  to  his  lifetime  of  thank- 
less struggle,  as  she  beheld  the  Theatre  Royal 
and  Opera  House  rocked  by  enthusiasm  for  Mr. 
Christopher  Tatham's  melodrama,  and  there  had 
been  bitterness  in  her  heart  for  Mr.  Christopher 
Tatham.  She  had  pictured  him;  and  his  jaunty 
self-satisfaction  had  incensed  her  more  still.  The 
moneyed  cad  of  her  imagination — her  fancy  por- 
trait was,  unconsciously,  inspired  by  a  shrinking 
horror  of  the  red-faced  business  manager — had 
been  contrasted  with  the  figure  of  a  scholar  bowed 
over  the  "study"  table  in  a  poverty-ridden  home. 
Poor  "study"!  When  she  was  rich,  Theodosia 
meant  to  endow  it  with  an  armchair  that  was 
comfortable,  and  a  lamp  that  wasn't  a  curse,  and 
a  screen  to  keep  the  draught  off  that  burdened 
back.  It  was  not  Miss  Moore's  function  as  a 
dramatic  critic  to  think  of  furniture  and  lamps 


in  a  parsonage  thirty  miles  from  the  low  com$- 
dian  and  his  fly-catcher;  it  was  not  discreet  or 
fair  of  her  to  do  it ;  but  she  was  only  twenty- four 
years  old,  and  the  evening  was  a  crisis  in  her  new 
career — the  "critic"  had  suppressed  sincerity  so 
long  that  suddenly  it  burst  its  dam. 

She  revolted.  And  after  she  went  back  to  her 
lodging  in  King  Street  she  wrote.  She  wrote  a 
criticism  that  would  never  have  been  passed  in 
the  office  of  The  Post  if  the  editor-and-proprietor 
hadn't  been  in  Blackpool,  and  the  subordinate 
that  reigned  in  his  stead  hadn't  nodded  on  press 
night.  When  it  was  too  late  she  found  the  criti- 
cism rather  startling  herself.  Proprietorial  dis- 
pleasure looked  to  her  very  near  at  hand,  for  Mr* 
Judd's  absence  was  to  be  but  brief. 

Now,  on  the  morning  after  Tatham's  arrival 
in  the  town,  some  eight  hours  after  he  had  parted 
from  an  elated  and  convivial  Ross  in  that  gentle- 
man's "diggings,"  he  opened  a  nice  clean  copy  of 
The  Post  in  the  "smoke-room"  of  the  Black  Bull 
and  was  stung  by  what  "Footlights"  had  written. 
It  stung  him,  not  because  "Footlights"  jeered  at 
his  "dramatic  triumph,"  but  because  "Footlights" 
quite  unwarrantably  assumed  him  to  be  a  suc- 
cessful person  perpetrating  similar  trash  habit- 
ually, and  with  complacence.  (Here  Theo- 
dosia's  limited  knowledge  of  the  theatre  had  led 


POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPEB    165 

her  astray.)  Thinking  of  the  corner  drawer 
again,  he  smarted  to  see  himself  referred  to  as 
the  "proud  author  of  London  Inside  Out" 

Resentment  was  in  his  mind,  and  a  supply  of 
the  hotel  stationery  stood  alluringly  beside  him. 
He  was  still  young  enough  to  succumb  to  it,  He 
wrote  a  sarcastic  correction  to  "Footlights" — too 
sarcastic,  he  wras  afraid,  after  the  letter  was 
posted.  A  rebuke  in  good  humour  might  have 
been  more  effective.  Indeed,  as  his  temper  sub- 
sided and  he  wandered  among  lodging-houses, 
seeking  a  couple  of  rooms  neither  too  dear  nor 
too  dirty,  he  began  to  think  that  he  might  have 
committed  a  mistake  in  remonstrating  at  all. 
But  he  had  no  suspicion,  of  course,  that  he  had 
made  a  second  mistake  in  addressing  his  critic 
as  "Dear  Sir." 


CHAPTER  VI 

HAVING  now  ascertained  the  names  of  the 
streets  in  which  "professionals"  were  offered  a 
"home  from  home,  at  moderate  terms,"  he  de- 
cided to  avoid  them,  lest  he  stumbled  on  a  house 
that  sheltered  a  memher  or  members  of  the 
London  Inside  Out  company.  He  realised  that 
he  did  not  yearn  to  revert  to  the  past  in  all  its 
phases;  he  wished  for  selected  features  of  the 
past.  To  linger  in  the  wings  once  more  for  a 
few  evenings  would  be  pleasant  enough;  but 
since  he  had  seen  the  performance,  the  chances 
of  the  low  comedian  or  the  villain  proving  con- 
genial in  the  parlour  looked  to  him  remote. 

People  had  praises  to  bestow  on  King  Street, 
and  to  King  Street  he  bent  his  steps.  Cards  in 
the  miniature  bay  windows,  on  either  side,  an- 
nounced "Apartments"  frequently,  but  brief  in- 
terviews on  doorsteps  revealed  always  that  this 
was  a  big  name  for  a  small  bedroom.  The  gen- 
eral requirement  of  King  Street  appeared  to  be 
a  young  man  engaged  in  business,  and  prepared 
to  enjoy-  a  tea-supper  in  the  kitchen.  However, 

166 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    107 

at  No.  43,  he  was  recommended  to  try  Mrs. 
Leake's,  the  double-fronted  house  further  up, 
and  at  Mrs.  Leake's  his  quest  concluded. 

Having  been  offered  two  little  ground-floor 
rooms  for  less  money  than  he  paid  for  one  at  an 
inconvenient  altitude  in  Berners  Street,  he  hadn't 
done  badly  after  all.  He  removed  his  port- 
manteau from  the  Black  Bull,  left  his  razor  strop 
hanging  on  the  curtain  hook,  ate  a  fried  chop, 
and  went  to  the  theatre. 

And  at  the  theatre  Theodosia  had  provoked 
excitement.  He  learnt  it  as  soon  as  he  entered 
Ross's  dressing-room — learning  primarily  that 
Ross  hadn't  come  to  a  malodorous  hole  like  this 
to  be  taught  the  way  to  act.  The  statement  was 
reiterated  with  a  redundance  of  adjectives.  It 
!was  manifest  that,  personally,  Ross  was  more 
incensed  by  the  impudence  that  dismissed  his  his- 
trionic capabilities  with  mirth  than  by  the  diatribe 
upon  the  play;  but  he  waxed  informative  by  de- 
grees— in  front  of  a  looking-glass,  while  he 
smeared  his  face  with  the  hues  of  youth. 

"Jumped-up  young  idiot!"  said  Ross.  "How 
'does  the  piece  go — you  were  in  last  night,  how 
does  the  piece  go?"  His  narrative  was  delayed 
by  expletives.  "Rotten  amateurs  getting  two- 
pence a  week  on  a  thing  that  calls  itself  a  'news- 
paper,' trying  to  teach  an  experienced  actor  whaf 


168    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

fo  <3o,  with  a  partf  .  .  .  Well,  Picton's  fed  up 
svith  it — it  isn't  the  first  time — he's  been  round  to 
the  office  and  stopped  his  ad.  'Accident  be 
damned!'  said  Picton.  'Think  I  advertise  for  the 
public  to  be  told  they're  a  pack  of  fools  to  come 
to  the  show?  Not  muchl'  said  Picton.  'Suppose 
1  want  to  hear  what  your  gory  critic's  opinion  is? 
I  don't  give  a  rush  for  the  gory  opinion,  one  way 
or  the  other!  .What  the  critics  are  let  in  for  is 
to  do  the  show  a  bit  of  good,  aren't  they?  If  I 
pay  for  ads,  I've  the  right  to  expect  reciprocity, 
haven't  I?'" 

"That's  one  way  of  looking  at  it,"  said  the 
author. 

"It's  the  only  *way  of  looking  at  it,  my  boyj 
the  editor  knew  that  very  well — matter  of  busi- 
ness. Didn't  attempt  to  defend  himself,  kept 
Saying  it  was  an  'error.*  Picton  behaved  very 
jvell  about  it.  As  he  said,  if  it  had  been  a  first 
offence  he  might  have  accepted  the  apology,  but 
it  wasn't;  it's  been  going  on  for  a  long  while,  it 
was  time  for  him  to  put  his  foot  down.  .  »  .  Do 
you  see  my  moustache  anywhere  about?  ,  .  .  He 
wouldn't  listen  to  any  palaver  at  all — withdrew 
his  ad  then  and  there,  quietly  and  firmly,  like  a 
gentleman.  There's  been  a  message  sent  round 
to-night:  the  girl's  got  the  sack,  and  the  editor 
Bays  that  the  show  shall  have  his  hearty  attention 


in  the  future ;  but  Picton  ain't  going  back  on  his 
word,  and  I  don't  blame  him.  Where  the  devil's 
the  white  hard  varnish  gone?  I've  been  so  upset 
over  this  thing  all  day — not  for  my  own  sake, 
for  yours,  my  boy ! — that,  'pon  my  word,  I  don't 
know  what  I'm  doing." 

"What  girl?"  asked  Tatham.  "Was  it  a  girl, 
then!" 

"Don't  I  keep  telling  you  it  was  a  girl  ?  Judd, 
the  boss,  was  away,  I  hear.  Only  got  back  this 
morning,  and  was  in  a  blue  funk  before  Picton 
went  in;  he  knew  he'd  lost  an  ad  as  soon  as  he 
Saw  his  blessed  rag  to-day.  'Tearing  passion  to 
(tatters'  me  ?  That's  what  I  made  my  reputation 
on,  eh  ?  If  there's  a  thing  I  do  pride  myself  on, 
it's  my  restraint.  They  didn't  half  like  me  at  the 
[Rotunda,  did  they?  I  didn't  get  a  return  date 
in  Leicester  simply  and  solely,  I  pledge  you  my 
word,  on  the  artistic  merit  of  my  own  perform- 
ance !  'Tearing  passion  to  tatters'  ?  It's  too  silly 
to  talk  about." 

While  he  continued  to  talk  about  it,  and  it  was 
the  staple  subject  of  his  discourse  throughout  the 
evening,  it  was  apparent  that  the  journalist's 
dismissal  was  a  point  that  had  made  absolutely 
no  impression  on  his  mind.  On  the  business  man- 
ager's and  Mr.  Picton's  it  was  impressed,  Tat- 
ham perceived  later — they  spoke  of  it  with  lively 


170    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

satisfaction;  but,  fluently  as  Ross  discussed  the 
criticism,  when  all  but  the  buffet  lights  were  out, 
and  glass  succeeded  glass,  the  critic's  loss  of  her 
berth  was  a  feature  of  the  affair  upon  which  he 
tad  no  remark  to  make.  He  was  not  heartless, 
he  would  have  put  his  name  to  almost  any  sub- 
scription list  that  was  brought  to  him,  and — as 
he  hadn't  failed  to  remind  Tatham — he  had  com- 
passionately, and  against  his  better  judgment, 
engaged  Galbraith.  But  he  was  an  actor.  Pass- 
ing his  life  in  the  most  precarious  calling  in  the 
world,  among  men  and  women  who  seldom  dared 
to  expect  to  retain  any  engagement  for  a  longer 
period  than  three  or  four  months,  a  girl's  loss  of 
employment  seemed  to  him  as  commonplace  as 
a  wet  day.  He  was  honestly  surprised  at  Tat- 
ham's  reference  to  it,  when  they  left  the  theatre 
together. 

"I  daresay  she'll  soon  get  shopped  somewhere 
else,"  he  said.  "You  don't  mean  to  say  you're 
worrying  about  that?" 

"It's  a  serious  thing  getting  the  sack ;  I  know* 
what  it  means."  He  wished  that  he  hadn't  writ- 
ten to  her,  wondered  if  she  held  him  partly  re- 
sponsible for  what  had  happened. 

"Well,  we  all  know  what  it  means !" 

"It's  not  the  same  thing  to  lose  a  temporary 
engagement  as  to  lose  a  permanent  job.  Per- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    171 

haps  she  expected  to  remain  on  the  paper  for" 
years.  .  .  .  And,  after  all,  a  great  deal  of  what 
she  said  was  true ;  I'm  not  talking  about  the  act>- 
ing — what  she  said  of  the  piece.  We  know  what 
the  piece  is,  ourselves." 

"Piece  is  a  property,  old  man,"  said  Ross,  who 
was  in  much  better  spirits  since  the  dalliance  in 
the  buffet.  "And  it's  going  to  be  a  bigger  boom 
still,  it's  going  to  be  a  money-maker  for  years  to 
come.  If  you  can  only  keep  the  game  up,  you'll 
be  all  right.  Look  here,  if  anybody  wants  to 
know  your  terms  for  another  piece  as  good,  you 
ask  me!  Don't  sell  your  next  piece  for  fifteen 
quid,  Tatham.  Come  to  me,  I'll  give  you  the 
tip.  Your  name's  known  to-day,  my  boy — • 
they're  asking  about  you  in  the  provinces."  He 
added  diplomatically,  "Of  course,  they  don't 
know  how  much  work  Z  put  in  on  the  scrip  I" 

Tatham  unbosomed  himself.  "I  loathe  the 
muck.  I  wouldn't  write  another  thing  like  it 
unless  I  were  starving.  Besides,  I  don't  think 
I  could!  .  .  .  I'm  working  for  London." 

They  proceeded  in  silence  for  a  few  moments, 

"Between  you  and  I,  perhaps  you're  right," 
Koss  admitted.  "It  doesn't  matter  about  it's  be- 
ing 'muck' — if  the  public  don't  know  any  better, 
why  should  we  care?  But  I'm  not  sure  it's  in 
you  to  do  the  trick  again,  either;  you  might  strike 


a  plot,  Eut  you'd  go  all  wrong  in  the  way  you 
worked  it.  And,  of  course,  a  good  half  of  th« 
success  of  this  is  due  to  my  performance — the 
part  suits  me.  Yes,  I  should  say  lighter  stuff  for 
the  West  End  would  be  more  in  your  line — if  you 
can  get  your  foot  in.  I  don't  know  that  this  is 
going  to  help  you,  though." 

Tatham  turned  a  slow  stare  upon  him,.  "What 
do  you  mean?  Do  you  mean  it's  going  to  hinder 
me?" 

"Well,  the  West  End  managements  have 
heard  of  it — don't  make  any  mistake  about  that; 
and  they're  going  to  hear  of  it  more  still,  I  prom- 
ise you!  They're  precious  sidey  in  the  West 
End,  old  chap — sneer  their  important  heads  off 
at  this  sort  of  show,  though  they're  often  sick 
with  envy  to  think  of  the  business  it's  doing. 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  weren't  particularly 
keen  on  reading  a  play  by  the  author  of  London 
Inside  Out;  they  may  think  you  aren't  class 
enough  for  their  high-and-mighty  houses.  Still, 
you'll  see;  it's  only  an  idea — very  likely,  I'm 
wrong.  .  .  .  Coming  in  for  a  nightcap?" 

No,  he  wasn't  going  in  to-night.  He  strolled 
on  to  King  Street,  wondering  what  foundation 
there  might  be  for  the  idea,  and  saw  too  late  that 
the  wiser  course  would  have  been  for  him  to  write 
the  melodrama  under  a  pseudonym.  But  who 


POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    173 

could  have  conjectured  that  the  thing  was  to  be- 
come so  widely  known?  "The  proud  author  of 
it"  he  had  been  called  this  morning;  to-night  he. 
was  told  that  it  might  stand  in  his  way  as  long 
as  he  lived.  Again  he  remembered  his  retort  fb 
the  girl,  and  while  he  supped  kept  wishing  that 
his  note  had  not  gone.  Of  course,  she  was  in- 
cluding him  among  the  forces  that  had  made  for 
her  calamity — at  any  rate  she  assumed  that  he 
had  grinned  to  learn  of  it!  They  were  never 
likely  to  meet;  she  moved  through  his  fancy  as 
a  spectacled  little  frump;  but  it  chagrined  him 
to  reflect  that  somewhere  in  the  world,  till  they 
both  were  laid  to  rest,  there  was  to  be  a  spectacled 
little  frump  who  thought  meanly  of  him.  .  .  . 
To  write  again  and  express  his  regret  for  what 
had  happened?  That  might  be  to  make  a  second 
blunder  I 

Miss  Moore  was,  indeed,  thinking  meanly  of 
him  no  further  away  than  the  sitting-room  over 
his  head.  And  the  lady  also  repented  of  sarcasm 
— scribbled  in  answer  to  his  own  before  she  had 
been  discharged.  She  had  not  foreseen  a  reproof 
so  summary  as  that,  or  she  would  have  answered 
nothing.  Now  she  reflected  that  the  man  would 
jeer  at  her  reply,  since  doubtless  her  punishment 
was  known  at  the  theatre;  he  would  jeer  and 
could  afford  to  jeer  at  it.  For  the  thousandth 


174    (THE  POSITION  OP  PEGGY  HARPEB 

time  she  wished  she  had  restrained  that  impulse 
to  repartee.  Then  for  the  thousandth  time  she 
fried  to  banish  Mr.  Christopher  Tatham,  and  Mr* 
OPicton,  and  Mr.  Judd  from  her  mind  and  asked 
terself  what  she  was  to  do. 

Go  home?  She  had  no  reproach  to  fear  there, 
they  would  be  tenderness  itself.  She  saw  her 
father's  half-humorous  smile,  felt  his  arm  about 
ner  waist;  she  heard  the  girls'  chorus  of  sym- 
pathy and  indignation;  she  would  not  be  humil- 
iated in  confessing  to  that  group  what  a  fool  she 
had  been.  But  as  she  sat  gazing  at  the  shavings 
in  the  lodging-house  grate,  Theodosia  looked  be- 
yond the  arrival  and  the  chorus — viewed  the 
straitened  circumstances  and  the  extra  mouth  to 
feed;  she  beheld  herself  waiting,  from  week  to 
week  once  more,  for  a  guinea  cheque  which  was 
so  sorely  needed  to  appease  the  butcher  and  which 
a  London  editor  took  so  long  to  write.  No,  she 
couldn't  go  home — she  had  to  keep  herself! 

Somebody,  a  new  lodger  downstairs,  jarred 
the  silence  by  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  pipe 
into  the  fender. 

"Keep  myself  1"  muttered  Theodosia,  nodding 
to  the  shavings. 

How?  There  was  no  chance  on  The  Adver- 
tiser, she  was  sure  of  that.  It  meant  London, 
then!  If  she  didn't  go  home,  she  must  go  to 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    170 

London  and  try  to  find  employment  on  one  of 
the  few  papers  that  had  taken  her  short  stories. 
The  most  recent  and  the  most  literary  of  them 
dominated  her  reverie.  From  the  Editor  of 
The  Aspect  she  had  twice  received  an  encourag- 
ing, even  a  flattering  letter  since  she  had  been 
on  The  Post.  What  if  she  presented  herself  at 
the  office  of  The  Aspect  and  explained  her  neces- 
sities to  her  kindly  correspondent?  Surely,  since 
her  tales  had  interested  him  so  much,  he  would 
consent  to  give  her  something  to  do  regularly? 

She  might — she  could Mentally  she  turned 

the  leaves  of  The  Aspect  and  asked  herself  just 
what  columns  of  the  journal,  apart  from  the 
story,  she  was  competent  to  write.  The  ques- 
tion found  no  answer,  nor  was  she  sanguine  of 
the  ability  to  produce  even  a  short  story  every 
week;  but  memory  echoed  the  dulcet  phrases  of 
the  gracious  letters,  and  she  felt  that  an  editor 
who  had  addressed  her  in  so  benign  a  fashion 
would  prove  a  friend. 

She  had  never  stayed  in  London.  She  had 
seen  Westminster  Abbey,  and  St.  Paul's,  and 
the  National  Gallery,  and  the  British  Museum, 
and  had  often  asserted  glibly  that  she  "knew 
London,"  but  all  at  once  her  knowledge  of  it 
shrank  and  left  her  startled.  The  city  loomed 
before  her  very  vast  and  strange.  She  realised 


176    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

that  she  would  find  no  bedroom  in  the  buildings 
that  she  had  visited,  and  that  she  had  no  idea  to 
what  quarter  to  direct  the  cabman  when  she 
reached  the  noisy  station.  Her  father's  arm  and 
her  sisters'  welcome  looked  sweetly  restful;  the 
shavings  grew  misty  before  her  eyes. 

She  was  crying,  how  ridiculous  of  her!  She 
rose  impatiently,  and  was  surprised  by  the  tid- 
ings of  the  clock.  Well,  she  could  breakfast  as 
late  as  she  liked — there  was  no  desk  to  go  to  now. 
Those  people,  those  horrible  people,  and  the  cad 
who  had  written  the  preposterous  piece!  One 
day,  when  she  had  got  on,  she'd  look  back  and 
laugh  at  all  their  petty  spite! 

"Oh,  I  am  so  miserable!"  she  quavered  to  the 
silence. 

At  war  with  the  world,  the  new  lodger  down- 
stairs clattered  his  pipe  furiously  again. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  was  not  till  the  morning,  when  he  couldn't 
shave  in  comfort,  that  he  missed  the  razor  strop, 
hanging  to  the  Black  Bull  curtain-hook.  AfteE 
breakfast  he  went  to  fetch  it;  and  among  the 
bottles  in  the  bar  there  was  a  note  for  him.  The 
loftiness  of  its  tone  was  less  exasperating  be- 
cause he  divined  the  depression  of  the  writer,  but 
it  irritated  him  enough  for  him  to  read  the  note 
twice.  It  was  in  reading  it  for  the  second  time 
that  he  noticed  the  address  at  the  top  and  learnt 
that  "T.  Moore"  was  living  in  the  same  house  as 
himself. 

To  defend  himself,  to  express  his  sympathy, 
or  to  see  what  she  was  like?  He  could  not  have 
said  precisely  why  the  discovery  inspired  him 
yrith  the  wish  to  call  upon  her,  but  it  did  not 
seem  an  unnatural  thing  to  do,  since  they  were 
sheltered  by  the  same  roof;  he  could  not  think 
that  she  herself  would  consider  it  unnatural  in 
the  circumstances.  To  his  own  mind  it  seemed 
more  unnatural  that  they  should  be  writing  to 
each  other,  with  only  a  ceiling  between  them. 

177 


178    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

The  householder  was  washing  the  doorstep 
when  he  reached  it  and  inquired  if  "Miss  Moore" 
was  at  home.  "Will  you  tell  her  I  should  be 
very  grateful  if  she  would  see  me,  please?"  Mrs. 
Leake,  surprised  hut  docile,  went  upstairs  drying 
her  hands,  and  reappeared  to  tell  him  that  "Miss 
Moore  was  in  the  drawing-room."  He  knocked, 
and  was  bidden  to  "come  in." 

She  looked  very  tall  against  the  miniature 
mantelpiece.  She  was  standing,  her  back  to  the 
shavings,  a  little  curiosity  and  a  glimmer  of 
amusement  in  her  eyes.  His  own  widened  as  they 
met  her  face,  and  as  the  frump  of  his  fancy  fled 
and  left  him  startled,  he  wondered  a  shade  breath- 
lessly what  he  had  come  to  say. 

"Miss  Moore?"  He  fumbled  with  his  hat  and 
cane  on  the  threshold.  "I  must  apologise  for 
my  visit,  I've  just  received  your  letter.  I  wanted 
to  tell  you  that  I  was  exceedingly  sorry  for 
mine." 

"Won't  you  sit  down?" 

"Thank  you.  I — fear  I  was  rather  brusque — 
stupid;  of  course,  it  was  your  business  to  say  just 
what  you  felt  about  the  play.  Only  a  man  isn't 
necessarily  'proud*  of  what  he  has  written." 

"Nor  a  woman,"  she  said,  with  the  suspicion  of 
a  smile. 

There  was  a  pause.    He  looked  away  from 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    179 

her,  and  back  again,  and  blurted,  "I  hope  you 
don't  think  /  had  anything  to  do  with  the  com- 
plaint that  was  made  to  the  Editor?" 

"I  was  told  it  was  Mr.  Picton  who  had  com- 
plained," she  said  evasively.  The  chill  indiffer- 
ence of  her  tone  lent  him  no  aid.  It  was  with  an 
effort  he  repeated: 

"But  I  hope  you  don't  think  I  had  anything 
to  do  with  it?  I  knew  nothing  about  it  till  it 
was  over.  Not  that  I  could  have  prevented  it, 
anyhow,  but  I  shouldn't  like  you  to  confuse  the 
author  with  the  Management.  You  aren't  blam- 
ing me?" 

"I've  no  right  to  blame  anyone — unless  it's 
myself.  I  wrote  what  I  really  thought  about  the 
piece.  That  was  unwise.  It  really  isn't  in  the 
least  necessary  to  talk  about  it." 

"I  hope  you'll  pardon  my  intrusion,"  said  Tat- 
ham,  as  formally  as  she. 

"Oh,  it  was  very  kind  of  you  to  call." 

"I  was  fool  enough  to  write  to  you,  but  I 
wasn't  cad  enough  to  wish  to  do  you  any  harm. 
And  I  was  frightfully  sorry  when  I  heard  what 
had  happened.  There's  nothing  else."  He  got 
up.  "I  must  thank  you  for  receiving  me,  Miss 
Moore." 

She  regarded  him  steadily  for  a  moment;  her 
face  softened. 


180    !THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"I  really  think  it  was  kind  of  you  to  call,  Mr. 
Tatham,"  she  said,  putting  out  her  hand. 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed;  "you  do  believe  me,  don't 
you?  If  I  had  any  voice  in  the  matter,  you'd  be 
back  on  the  paper  this  afternoon." 

"You're  very  magnanimous,"  she  smiled.  "I'm 
afraid — it's  a  humiliating  confession — I'm  afraid 
my  criticism  was  rather  vulgar?" 

"Not  that.    But  rather — may  I  say  it?" 

"Z  mustn't  object  to  candour." 

"Rather  unfair,  then.  You  hated  the  play — 
I'm  not  surprised — but  wasn't  it  a  little  unfair 
to  take  it  for  granted  that  I  thought  it  a  master- 
piece, myself?" 

"I  don't  think  I  said  that,  did  I?" 

"That  I  was  'proud'  of  it,  that  I  couldn't  do 
anything  better?" 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  could  do  better.  There 
were  things  here  and  there  that  made  me  think 
you  could  do  ever  so  much  better,  if  you  cared  to. 
.That  was  why  I — I  wondered." 

"Looked  down  on  me,  you  mean?" 

She  sought  for  euphemisms.  "That  was  why 
1  wondered  how  you  could  be  content  to  write 
that." 

"I  wrote  'that'  for  the  same  reason  that  you 
wrote  criticisms  of  the  theatre.  The  work  didn't 
interest  you  very  much,  I  imagine — the  plays  that 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER     181' 

come  here  tax  your  patience  more  than  your  in- 
tellect, don't  they?  From  my  own  point  of  view, 
I  have  to  live." 

"Ah!"  She  seemed  about  to  annihilate  him, 
but  checked  the  retort.  "You  won't  tempt  me 
to  accuse  you  again!" 

"Accuse?" 

"I  could  answer  what  you've  said." 

"Goon!" 

"Shall  I?  Well,  people  may  manage  to  'live' 
without  stooping  to  quite  such  profitable  work 
as  you  do." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Oh,  please  don't  ignore  the  'triumph'!" 

"And  the  rest?" 

"I  suppose  you  have  written  other  pieces,  and 
will  write  more?" 

"I  hope  so.  But  none  of  the  others  has  ever 
been  produced — and  none  of  them  made  me  feel 
ashamed  when  I  wrote  it." 

Again  they  looked  at  each  other  in  silence. 

"I've  jumped  to  conclusions?"  inquired  the 

girl. 

"Frantically,  since  you  ask  the  question.  You 
seem  to  think  that  one  swallow  makes  a  summer 
— you  seem  to  think  that  if  a  piece  is  a  success, 
the  author  must  be  rolling  in  money.  It  wouldn't 


182    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

do  me  any  good  if  London  Inside  Out  ran  for 
generations." 

After  absorbing  this,  she  murmured,  "I'm 
sorry  I  wrote  in  the  way  I  did."  And  added 
drily,  "You're  nobly  avenged." 

"Is  it  impertinence  to  ask  whether "  He 

hesitated. 

"Whether  there's  any  other  paper  waiting  for 
me?  No,  Mr.  Tatham,  there  isn't.  The  Post 
appointment  was  the  first  I've  had." 

"It's  a  cowardly  shame,"  he  cried.  "If  I  were 
anybody  I'd  go  and  talk  to  the  man.  But  it  isn't 
what  you  said  about  me  he  minds,  of  course ;  it's 
the  loss  of  the  advertisements.  Well  .  .  .  what 
are  you  going  to  do?" 

"I  suppose  I'm  going  to  look  for  something 
else,"  she  fenced. 

"Here?" 

"Oh  no,  there's  nothing  in  this  place.  I — I 
daresay  I  shall  go  to  London." 

"Have  you — is  there  any  prospect  there?" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  afraid  of  the  experiment.  Please 
don't  take  it  so  seriously;  very  likely  I  might 
have  had  to  leave  The  Post  soon,  in  any  case — 
one  never  knows.  It  was  awfully  nice  of  you  to 
come  to  see  me — I  didn't  deserve  it." 

There  was  finality  in  her  tone.    He  regretted, 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    183 

but  accepted  the  dismissal.  "Well,  good-bye, 
Miss  Moore." 

"Good-bye,"  she  said.  "And  thank  you  again. 
...  I'm  afraid  it'd  be  no  use  for  me  to  ring,  the 
landlady  wouldn't  understand  what  it  was  for." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  going  away,"  he  explained.  "I 
live  here." 

"Here?"  She  was  very  much  surprised.  "In 
this  house,  do  you  mean?  Are  you  the  down- 
stairs  " 

"Yes,"  he  said ;  "I'm  the  'downstairs.'  I  hope 
I  haven't  disturbed  you?" 

"Oh,  not  in  the  least,"  she  said  hurriedly;  "no. 
I  heard  you  knocking  out  your  pipe,  that's  all — >. 
it  was  your  pipe,  wasn't  it?  But  I  thought  you 
were  at  the  Black  Bull?" 

"For  a  night.  Yes,  it  was  my  pipe;  I'll  take 
care  this  evening.  I'm  in  the  town  for  three  or 
four  days — it  wouldn't  run  to  an  hotel  for  so 
long  as  that.  I'm  a  very  much  less  opulent  per- 
son than  you  fancied,  not  nearly  so  professional 
as  yourself.  I'm  a  clerk — this  is  my  holiday." 

Now  if  he  had  announced  that  he  was  a  wealthy 
amateur,  Theodosia  would  have  bowed  again  and 
the  interview  would  have  ended;  but  because  he 
was  revealed  as  a  humble  clerk  she  felt  more 
remorseful  still  for  her  derision  of  him  in  The 
Post;  and  instead  of  letting  him  go,  she  smiled 


184.    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

the  sunniest  smile  that  she  had  given  to  him  yet 
and  said,  "Are  you?  If  the  world's  so  ungener- 
ous to  us  both,  we  ought  to  be  friends.  Oh,  I  do 
wish  I  hadn't  been  so  horrid  about  you !  Where 
do  you  live?  In  London?  Perhaps  you  can  tell 
me  something  I  want  to  know?" 

And,  instead  of  having  descended  to  the  par- 
lour a  minute  later,  he  was  sitting  down  again  in 
the  drawing-room  and  digesting  the  fact  that  she 
proposed  to  adventure  London,  equipped  with 
hope,  a  pen,  and  little  cash.  The  intelligence  was 
imparted  so  casually — his  advice,  obviously,  being 
sought  on  no  weightier  matter  than  the  localities 
of  cheap  furnished  apartments — that  the  counsel 
in  his  mind  was  not  easy  to  utter.  He  felt  con- 
strained, though,  to  urge  that  pens  were  more 
numerous  than  salaries  in  London,  and  that  to 
Fleet  Street  her  experience  on  Mr.  Judd's  organ 
would  prove  no  Open  Sesame. 

"I  hate  to  depress  you,"  he  said,  "but  if  you'll 
let  me  speak  plainly,  I  think  it  would  be  a  far 
better  plan  for  you  to  write  to  the  editors  who 
know  you.  If  they  can  off er  you  anything,  they 
can  tell  you  so  by  letter — you  needn't  travel  to 
disappointments,  you  can  find  them  with  a 
penny  stamp.  Of  course,  I've  no  right  to  inter- 
fere  " 

"Oh,  you  aren't  interfering!"  she  exclaimed 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    185 

petulantly.  But  he  felt  that  she  repented  her 
confidence.  And  she  was,  in  truth,  uncomfort- 
ably conscious  of  having  blundered  into  a  posi- 
tion of  little  dignity.  "I've  no  doubt  you're  per- 
fectly right;  what  you  say  sounds  very  practical." 

"Why  are  you  wishing  you  hadn't  told  me?" 
asked  Tatham  impulsively. 

"What?"  It  was  spontaneous,  the  quick  sur- 
prise of  a  woman  responsive  to  a  man's  intuition. 
"Was  I?  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  suppose  I  was 
wondering  why  on  earth  I  should  have  bothered 
you  about  it!" 

He  shook  his  head.  "You  were  thinking  you 
had  paid  me  too  great  a  compliment.  I  was 
afraid  you  might!  If  I  had  been  insincerely  san- 
guine, you'd  have  liked  me  much  better." 

"You're  calling  me  a  horribly  ungrateful  per- 
son! So" — she  forced  a  laugh  and  turned  to  him 
— "you  think  the  idea's  very  silly,  do  you?  The 
advice  you  give  me  is  to  put  my  pride  in  my 
pocket  and  go  back,  beaten — to  confess  I'm  a 
failure?  Think  before  you  speak! — I  mayn't 
forgive  you  a  second  time." 

"I  think  you'd  do  much  better  to  go  home  if 
you've  no  prospects  and  no  friends  in  London," 
said  Tatham  obdurately.  "Yes." 

The  moment  in  which  her  eyes  dwelt  on  him 
seemed  a  very  long  one. 


186    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"Well,  I  haven't  told  you  quite  everything; 
I  must  find  some  work  to  do  in  London,"  she 
declared.  But  there  was  no  lack  of  forgiveness 
in  her  voice,  there  was  frank  approval.  "I'm 
much  obliged  to  you  for  not  being  insincerely 
sanguine,  all  the  same." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  man,  "that  point's  set- 
tled. Now  let's  consider  where  you're  to  live! 
Don't  you  know  London  at  all?" 

"I've  often  been  there  for  a  day.  That  doesn't 
count,  I'm  afraid.  Is  Chelsea  far  away?  I've 
always  thought  I  should  like  to  live  in  Chelsea; 
it's  such  a  pretty  name,  and  there's  the  river." 

"I  don't  exactly  know  how  you  get  to  Chel- 
sea," said  the  Londoner  vaguely.  "Yes,  I  think 
it  is  a  long  way  off.  If  you're  going  to  call  on 
editors,  you'd  find  the  West  Central  district  more 
convenient,  I  should  think ;  you'd  be  able  to  walk 
to  where  you  want  to  go.  ...  I  suppose  you 
want  two  rooms,  don't  you?" 

"Well,  yes,  I  certainly  do,"  said  she,  "if  I  can 
afford  the  price.  Why?  Are  they  going  to  be 
dear?" 

"They're  going  to  be  much  dearer  than  two 
rooms  here.  Where  Z  am,  I've  only  one.  Da 
you  know,  I  think  a  boarding-house  might  be  the 
thing  for  you.  It  would  give  you  a  sitting-room 
a  corner  of  a  sitting-room — and  it'd  save 


POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    187 

you  an  awful  lot  of  trouble  about  your  meals; 
you'd  have  no  things  to  order  and  you  wouldn't 
be  cheated." 

"Oh,  that's  a  capital  idea,"  exclaimed  Theo- 
dosia  brightly.  "You're  being  tremendously 
useful,  Mr.  Tatham.  Go  on!  Where  am  I  to 
find  a  boarding-house,  a  nice  cheap  one,  near 
the  paper  offices?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  the  address  of  any  pa- 
per," he  laughed,  "except  the  theatrical  papers, 
but  I  expect  the  West  Central  district  is  about 
as  nice  and  near  as  you'll  be  able  to  get.  You 
can  see  any  number  of  them  advertised  in  the 
Telegraph.  I'll  bring  a  copy  in.  You'll  see  the 
terms  too,  and  you  can  pick  out  something  likely 
and  arrange  ahead  by  letter.  How  soon  do  you 
mean  to  go?" 

"I  meant  to  go  to-morrow;  I  don't  want  to 
waste  time.  My  fortune's  limited — the  longer 
I  wait  before  I  go,  the  less  there'll  be  of  it  when 
I  get  there." 

"I  should  wait  for  an  answer,"  he  insisted. 
"If  you  arrived  and  found  the  house  full  and 
had  to  drive  about  with  your  luggage  on  the  cab, 
looking  for  a  place  to  live  in,  it'd  be  a  miserable 
day  for  you.  It  wouldn't  do  at  all ;  there  are  all 
sorts  of  objections  to  it — your  people  ought  to 
know  where  you'll  be.  I'll  go  and  get  the  Tele- 


188    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

graph  at  once — I  daresay  I  can  get  it  at  the 
station — and  I'll  mark  the  suitable  addresses  for 
you.  Shall  I?" 

"You're  most  awfully  good,"  said  Theodosia 
gaily.    "It'd  be  lovely  of  you." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

So  in  the  afternoon  he  tapped  at  the  door 
again,  and  he  was  aware,  in  betaking  himself  to 
the  wings  later,  that  his  day  had  passed  with  un- 
usual swiftness.  On  his  return  he  entered  the 
passage  lightly,  and  when  he  banged  his  pipe  on 
his  palm,  instead  of  on  the  fender,  he  fell  to  won- 
dering what  London  might  have  in  store  for  the 
girl  overhead. 

Also  he  wondered  a  little  at  the  music  of 
homely  English  words,  now  that  he  had  heard  a 
gentlewoman's  voice  again.  How  different  was 
every  vowel  of  her  vocabulary  from  the  vowels 
of  the  group  he  had  just  left !  She  spoke  another 
language — the  language  that  Ross  made  a  hor- 
rible attempt  to  speak  as  the  hero,  in  the  mo- 
ments when  he  remembered  that  he  was  supposed 
to  be  well-bred  and  said,  "It's  naice  of  you,  I'm 
shoeah !" 

Great  mistake  for  her  to  go  to  London — she 
couldn't  afford  to  stay  there  long  enough  to  do 
any  good!  Not  of  vital  importance,  though,  as 
she  had  people  to  write  to — she  needn't  starve 

189 


190    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

when  she  had  spent  her  money.  Still,  she  was 
hound  to  find  town  very  sad  and  lonely:  he 
caught  himself  wishing  that  he  had  a  married 
sister  to  look  after  her.  What,  in  heaven's  name, 
was  it  to  do  with  him?  London  was  full  of  lonely 
girls  clamouring  for  work — they  were  dragging 
their  feet  up  and  down  the  agents'  stairs  all  day. 
Xot  girls  like  her,  though!  she  was  so  different 

from Again  it  reverted  to  that — she  was 

"so  different"!  The  image  of  Peggy  obtruded 
itself  violently.  The  dishonesties  of  the  mind  are 
innumerable:  subconsciously  he  had  striven  to 
exclude  Peggy  from  his  reflections ;  he  had  sought 
to  keep  Peggy  out  of  sight  for  Peggy's  own 
sake;  he  felt  queerly  guilty  and  compassionate 
towards  Peggy  as  her  shortcomings  thrust  them- 
selves into  a  fatal  comparison.  He  reminded 
himself  conscientiously  that  his  appreciation  of 
Miss  Moore  was  purely  intellectual. 

The  next  morning  moved  more  slowly  than  its 
predecessor,  and  Mrs.  Leake,  who  brought  no 
enlivening  message,  was  a  disappointment  to  him 
every  time  she  entered  the  room.  To  Theodosia, 
too,  the  hours  were  long.  She  divined  that  the 
rain  looked  no  less  dismal  from  the  dining-room 
window  than  from  her  own,  and  knew  that  she 
would  find  it  pleasant  to  talk  to  him ;  but  she  was 
a  foreigner  in  bohemia,  and,  for  once,  doubtful 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    191 

of  the  social  laws  of  the  land  she  knew.  She  was 
diffident  of  inviting  the  man  to  "come  upstairs," 
and  equally  afraid  of  seeming  thankless.  Yester- 
day she  had  called  a  stranger  her  "friend,"  and 
to-day  she  was  ignoring  his  existence.  Did 
works  on  etiquette  by  members  of  the  aristocracy 
provide  for  this  situation?  She  determined  it  in 
the  early  afternoon,  without  the  aid  of  those  in- 
valuable manuals,  by  inquiring  through  the  land- 
lady if  he  would  come  up  to  tea  at  five  o'clock. 

And  on  the  following  day  the  second  post 
brought  a  satisfactory  letter,  which  civility  re- 
quired her  to  display. 

"I've  heard  from  the  house  in  Torrington 
Square,"  she  informed  him;  "there'll  be  a  small 
room  free  to-morrow,  so  I  shall  go  from  here  in 
the  morning.  She  wants  me  to  let  her  have  a 
postcard  to  say  whether  I'm  coming,  or  not. 
You  go  to-morrow  too,  don't  you,  to  Sweet- 
bay?" 

"Yes.  I  go  all  the  way  to  London  first, 
though,"  he  said.  "I've  been  asking  at  the  sta- 
tion— it'll  be  much  quicker.  We  might  go  by 
the  same  train,  mightn't  we? — then  I  can  look 
after  your  luggage  for  you  when  you  arrive." 

Why  not  ?  She  admitted  frankly  that  it  would 
be  much  pleasanter  than  travelling  by  herself. 
And,  by-and-by,  when  she  went  to  the  pillar-box, 


they  met  again  in  the  streets.  The  sun  was  shin- 
ing, and  after  the  postcard  was  dispatched  they 
walked  together,  past  the  factories,  along  a  white 
road  that  wound  between  hedges  to  the  unknown. 
During  their  walk  they  learnt  a  good  deal  of 
each  other;  and  more  than  once  Tatham  asked 
himself  whether  it  would  be  the  right  thing  to 
mention  that  he  was  engaged.  His  mind  re- 
coiled from  mentioning  it,  primarily  because  it 
seemed  to  him  that  it  would  be  as  if  he  said,  "You 
must  never  aspire  to  marry  me,  you  know;  I 
should  be  sorry  for  you  to  have  any  false  hopes 
— let  me  warn  you  not  to  expect  it!"  Wasn't 
she  bound  to  realise  the  reason  that  he  told  her? 
wouldn't  he  deserve  to  be  most  disdainfully 
snubbed?  But  also  he  was  deterred  by  the  dread 
of  having  to  dilate  upon  the  subject  of  Peggy  to 
her,  doubting  his  ability  to  sound  as  enthusiastic 
as  he  ought.  He  talked  instead  of  his  failures 
and  his  ambitions.  She  was  not  bored  by  the 
story  of  his  failures;  a  passing  reference  to  the 
corner  drawer  hadn't  sufficed  for  her,  and  her 
interest  was  so  vivid  that  they  had  turned  back 
from  a  neighbouring  village  and  were  half-way 
home  before  the  drawer  was  shut.  Nor  was  it 
only  the  girl  who  had  questions  to  ask;  he  was 
granted  a  view  of  the  "study,"  and  obtained  sur- 
prising glimpses  of  the  Church  as  a  profession. 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    193 

"I  should  like  to  read  some  of  your  father's 
books,"  he  said.  "And  your  stories — are  they 
always  signed?" 

"Generally.  The  Aspect  cuts  me  down  to 
initials,  though— 'T.  M.'  "T  stands  for  'Theo- 
dosia';  perhaps  that's  why  they  won't  print  my 
name  in  full,  it  takes  up  such  a  lot  of  room.  I'll 
send  one  to  you  one  day,  when  I've  done  some- 
thing I'm  particularly  vain  of."  She  laughed. 
"Then  you  can  avenge  yourself;  you  can  call  me 
'the  proud  author  of  a  silly  little  story/  Isn't  it 
funny,  if  I  hadn't  written  that " 

"Yes,  I  know,  I've  been  thinking  of  it!  If 
you  hadn't  written  that,  I  should  never  have 
spoken  to  you.  ...  I  suppose  I  might  have  seen 
you  through  the  window  when  you  went  out — 
wondered  who  you  were  1" 

"And  you'd  have  gone  on  clattering  your  pipe 
in  comfort  and  have  had  nobody's  luggage  to 
bother  about  to-morrow  but  your  own.  I'm  won- 
dering so  hard  what  he's  like." 

He  didn't  say  "Who?"  In  looking  back,  she 
gave  him  credit  for  that. 

"He'll  be  very  polite,"  he  prophesied,  "if  he's 
written  to  you  so  nicely.  But " 

"No,  don't!  You  were  quite  discouraging 
enough  the  day  before  yesterday." 

"I  talked  as  I  should  have  talked  if  you'd  been 


my  sister."  Again  he  wished  that  he  had  a  sister, 
married,  capable,  urbane. 

"I  know.  Oh,  I  know  it'll  be  extraordinary  if 
anything  comes  of  it!  But " 

"I  don't  think  it'd  be  extraordinary  if  you 
found  an  opening  in  time,  but  I  don't  see  The. 
Aspect  ready  to  take  you  on  the  staff  the  mo- 
ment you  suggest  it.  I  daresay  he'll  be  polite 
enough,  but  I'm  afraid  you'll  walk  back  to  Tor- 
rington  Square  in  the  blues." 

"There  are  more  papers  than  one  in  London. 
Everybody  has  to  begin.  How  do  other  people 
get  on?" 

"I  can't  tell  you,"  said  Tatham;  "I  haven't 
done  it." 

"Haven't  other  women  like  me  gone  there  and 
managed  to  stay?  Anyhow,  I'm  not  going  to 
give  in  till  I'm  forced  to — I've  got  to  do  my  best 
first.  Think  of  me  besieging  editors  when  you're 
listening  to  the  band  on  the  pier!" 

He  was  conscious  that  he  would;  hazily,  too, 
he  was  conscious  that  the  interest  afforded  by  his 
trip  had  been  a  surprising  interest,  and  that,  in 
retrospect,  the  theatre  would  be  a  less  vivid  im- 
pression to  him  than  this  walk  along  a  country 
road.  Actually,  what  he  was  to  recall  most  often 
was  the  confusion  at  the  terminus  next  day  and 
her  troubled  face  through  the  cab  window.  So 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    195 

capricious  is  memory,  which  immortalises  mo- 
ments without  reference  to  our  tastes  and  ex- 
pectations ! 

The  journey  had  been  well  enough,  but  at  the 
last  there  was  difficulty  about  her  luggage  after 
all.  The  porter  who  went  to  fetch  it  was  absent 
so  long  that  Tatham  left  her  and  went  to  look 
for  him,  and  when  the  man  was  found,  he  had 
mumbled  that  the  trunk  was  missing.  It  was 
discovered  at  the  other  end  of  the  platform,  after 
the  other  passengers  had  all  departed.  Her 
smile  of  relief  was  radiant,  but  the  minutes  in 
which  it  had  appeared  that  her  belongings  might 
be  anywhere  excepting  in  the  van  had  taken  the 
colour  from  her  cheeks. 

"Well,  I'm  all  right  now!  Ever  so  many 
thanks  for  everything,  Mr.  Tatham.  I  hope 
you'll  enjoy  yourself  at  Sweetbay." 

"Thanks.    /  hope — well,  you  know!" 

"Though  I've  defied  your  advice!"  This  aft- 
ernoon her  laugh  was  a  little  nervous. 

"I  feel  much  more  sanguine  tliis  afternoon, 
somehow,"  he  affirmed  untruthfully;  "I've  an 
idea  my  advice'll  turn  out  to  have  been  wrong. 
Then  I'm  to  hear  your  news  when  I  come  back 
next  week?"  The  cab  was  moving,  he  kept  pace 
with  it  eagerly.  "If  you  do  change  your  address 
before  then " 


196    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"I  shan't,"  she  said,  "before  next  week!" 
And  as  the  gates  were  passed  and  she  looked 

out  at  London,  she  felt  less  lonely  for  the  thought 

that  next  week  she  was  to  see  him. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IF  she  had  written  a  story  about  them  both — 
and  though  she  didn't  do  it,  she  had  half  a  mind 
to  write  a  story  beginning,  "The  dramatic  critic 
of  an  obscure  newspaper  sat  in  the  dress-circle" 
—nothing  would  have  been  simpler  than  for  un- 
toward circumstances  to  prevent  their  meeting 
again  for  years:  the  boarding-house  might  have 
proved  impossible,  even  for  the  briefest  of  so- 
journs, and  he  might  have  been  told  when  he 
called  there  that  she  had  gone  without  leaving 
any  message.  In  reality,  no  such  dramatic  com- 
plications occurred.  The  dinner  was  deplorable, 
and  the  boarders  were  depressing,  and  the  arti- 
ficial cheerfulness  of  the  proprietress  was  melan- 
choly beyond  words,  until  she  gave  the  effort  up 
and  lapsed  into  contemplation  of  her  liabilities; 
but  having  expected  nothing  better  for  the 
money,  Theodosia  remained. 

She  remained,  and  when  she  had  heard,  with 
a  sinking  of  the  heart,  that  her  encouraging  cor- 
respondent of  The  Aspect  was  out  of  town,  and 
not  due  at  the  office  for  a  week,  her  days  were 

197 


devoted  to  attempts  to  see  the  other  editors  who 
had  published  her  work. 

At  the  outset  she  saw  no  further  than  a  printed 
interrogation  form  presented  disconcertingly  by 
a  liveried  official  at  the  entrance.  The  form  de- 
manded terse  statements  of  all  that  she  mis- 
trusted her  ability  to  urge  at  length.  It  was 
displayed  to  her  by  Thursday  that  these  impera- 
tive demands  for  information  were  finding  her 
too  docile.  After  she  had  acknowledged  her  in- 
significance several  times  with  discouraging  re- 
sults, she  began  to  palter  with  the  peremptory 
inquiry,  "Business?"  She  euphemised,  she  grew 
disingenuous.  Once  she  had  the  audacity  to  ig- 
nore the  inquiry  altogether,  and  discovered  that 
the  alarming  official  regarded  his  duty  as  accom- 
plished when  he  had  indicated  the  form  to  her, 
caring  not  a  row  of  his  domestic  pins  whether 
she  complied  with  all  its  requirements  or  not. 

Theodosia's  earliest  impression  of  her  London 
editors  when  she  had  stormed  their  thresholds 
was  that  they  were  unaffected  and  rather  chatty 
gentlemen  who  appeared  incapable  of  declining 
desirable  manuscripts  with  the  dilatory  tasteless- 
ness  of  which  she  knew  them  to  be  guilty.  It  was, 
for  instance,  sensational  to  remember  that  the 
meek-mannered  little  man  who  tittered  to  her  in 
the  office  of  Mother  and  Girls  was  the  remorse- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER     199 

less  power  who  had  rejected  every  story  that  she 
had  offered  to  him  during  six  months.  So 
sweetly,  even  persuasively,  did  he  suggest  her 
"letting  him  see  some  more  of  her  stories"  that 
it  seemed — until  she  sent  one — as  if  she  were 
destined  to  delight  him  by  everything  she  wrote. 
But  when  she  explained  that  she  wanted  some 
regular  work,  he  "feared."  She  had  often  re- 
flected that  she  could  make  the  columns  signed 
"Lady  Fervia"  very  much  more  interesting  than 
"Lady  Fervia"  contrived  to  dor  and  only  her 
reluctance  to  disparage  another  woman's  work 
prevented  her  asking  the  little  Editor  if  he  was 
satisfied  with  them.  When  he  inquired  with  a 
simper,  "And  how  do  you  like  Lady  Fervia's 
stuff? — I  do  that  myself,"  she  was  glad  she  had 
refrained. 

Then  there  wras  the  gentleman  who  explained 
that  his  periodical  was  an  object  lesson  to  all  the 
other  editors  in  London — she  was  not  sure  but 
what  he  included  those  in  America.  And  there 
was  the  Editor  who  talked  enthusiastically  of 
"literature,"  and  bewailed  the  ignorance  of  the 
class  of  readers  for  whom  he  was  condemned  to 
cater.  He  favoured  her  with  examples  of  his 
literary  tastes — pearls  from  deep  thoughts — and, 
although  she  was  a  nobody,  she  knew  that  their 
polysyllabic  pretentiousness  wasn't  quite  so  ad- 


200    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

mirable  as  he  thought  it  was.  And  there  was  the 
good-natured,  paternal  Editor  who  counselled 
her  candidly  to  return  to  the  country. 

A  good  deal  of  her  time  was  spent  in  waiting- 
rooms,  and  she  found  it  fascinating  to  try  to 
guess  the  business  of  the  other  occupants.  The 
black-and-white  artists  proclaimed  their  purpose 
by  the  sketches  that  they  nursed ;  but  she  used  to 
wonder  which  of  the  disconsolate-looking  com- 
pany were  the  story  writers,  and  if  they  were 
professionals  or  amateurs,  and  what  their  fate 
was  to  be  when  their  turn  was  announced  at  last. 
Sometimes,  as  she  watched  them,  they  became 
the  heroes  and  heroines  of  embryonic  stories 
themselves,  and  it  was  a  regret  to  her  that,  after 
they  hurried  from  their  seats  at  the  summons  of 
a  swooping  boy,  who  passed  his  life  flying  up 
and  down  the  stairs,  she  didn't  see  them  any 
more,  and  was  left  with  her  little  romance  un- 
finished. 

One  afternoon  she  had  a  conversation  in  a 
waiting-room.  She  had  sighed,  "It's  tedious, 
isn't  it?"  and  the  woman  had  answered,  "Well, 
Tm  glad  of  a  chance  to  sit  down!"  She  was 
dressed  much  more  expensively  than  Theodosia, 
and  the  girl,  who  had  assumed  her  to  be  success- 
ful, was  rather  surprised  by  the  sadness  of  her 
tone. 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    201 

"Are  you  working  for  the  paper?"  asked  the 
woman. 

"No."  With  a  vague  idea  of  justifying  her 
presence,  she  added,  "I  had  a  tale  in  it  some  time 
ago." 

"Oh,  fiction!"  She  sounded  envious  and  in- 
imical. "Yes,  that's  the  best — if  one  can  do  it." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  It  was  an  arresting  point 
of  view. 

"Anything  that  one  can  do  at  home !" 

"It  doesn't  mean  a  salary,  though — one  gets  a 
story  taken  now  and  then." 

The  sad  woman  was  inclined  to  envy  and  dis- 
like her  less.  "Have  you  been  writing  long?" 

"I  haven't  been  making  a  living  by  it  very 
long." 

Both  smiled. 

"It's  a  beastly  business,"  said  the  woman. 
"I  haven't  been  at  it  long,  either;  it's  the  first 
time  I've  been  on  a  paper.  I'm  doing  the  fashion 
article." 

"Is  that  the  easiest  sort  of  work  to  find?"  asked 
Theodosia  eagerly.  "I  do  so  want  to  get  some- 
thing permanent." 

"I'd  advise  you  to  do  anything  else  instead." 

"It's  so  tiring?" 

"Oh,  it's  tiring,  of  course — I've  been  running 
about  the  West  End  all  day ;  it's  the  same  thing 


202    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

every  day;  and  when  I  get  home,  dead  beat,  in 
the  evening  I've  got  to  write.  But  it  isn't  only 
that  it's  tiring!  If  your  name  isn't  well  known, 
you  can't  keep  yourself  just  by  writing  the  ar- 
ticles— there  aren't  half  a  dozen  women  in  Lon- 
don who  get  big  enough  terms  for  their  stuff  to 
do  that — you've  got  to  canvass  for  advertise- 
ments besides.  It  isn't  very  pleasant." 

"No,  I  don't  think  I  should  like  that,"  said 
Theodosia. 

"I  don't  think  you  would! — especially  if  you 
were  doing  it  for  a  rag  like  this.  I  daresay  it's 
all  right  if  the  paper  has  a  large  circulation,  and 
the  shops  know  it;  but  when  I  go  in  and  say  I'm 
representing  a  paper  they've  hardly  heard  of, 
it's  as  much  as  they'll  do,  very  often,  to  let  me 
see  their  models.  When  I  try  to  persuade  them 
to  pay  for  advertisements " 

"It  must  be  loathsome!" 

"One's  got  to  live,"  sighed  the  other.  "But 
don't  try  canvassing  if  you  can  manage  any  other 
way.  It's  worse  still  for  a  girl — I've  a  friend 
who  used  to  do  it." 

"Why 'worse'?" 

"Because  it's  men  you  have  to  see.  At 
Madame  Diane's  you  see  Mrs.  Brown,  but  at 
Clifford's,  or  Lacy  and  Lovell's,  or  any  of  those 
places,  it's  always  a  cad  of  a  man  you've  got  to 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    203 

talk  to.  You  can  imagine  what  it  means.  He 
says,  'I'm  not  sure  if  I  can  give  you  an  ad,  but 
I'll  take  you  out  to  lunch  if  you  like!' ' 

An  indefatigable  boy,  swooping  like  his  coun- 
terparts elsewhere,  interrupted  them  before  her 
confidences  could  be  continued.  But  when  a 
well-intentioned  editor,  who  had  not  heard  such 
confidences,  offered  the  girl  an  opportunity  to 
devote  her  energies  to  the  advertisement  columns 
of  a  struggling  periodical,  it  was  by  reason  of 
this  conversation  that  she  found  the  spirit  to  say 


"no.3 


She  found  the  spirit  to  say  "no";  but  she  de- 
parted from  him  spiritless.  Few  as  the  days 
were,  they  had  been  weighted  by  many  dis- 
appointments, and  it  began  to  seem  to  her  that 
she  had  been  in  London  a  long  while.  Fleet 
Street,  but  a  week  ago  an  avenue  to  fame,  elo- 
quent of  Dr.  Johnson's  suggestion,  looked  now 
the  least  attractive  thoroughfare  that  she  had 
trodden,  and  Goldsmith's  tomb  no  longer  lured 
her  tired  footsteps  to  the  Temple.  The  lives  be- 
hind the  curtains  that  fronted  her  attic,  across 
the  railings  and  the  branches  of  Torrington 
Square,  did  not  stir  her  curiosity  any  more :  her 
own  affairs  absorbed  her  when  she  sat  by  the 
window.  For  all  the  magnitude  of  London,  the 
fraction  of  London  that  might  welcome  her  was 


204 

dwindling  hourly,  was  shrinking  to  the  limita- 
tions of  the  village  to  which  she  was  recom- 
mended to  return.  Her  thoughts  were  concen- 
trated more  and  more  upon  The  Aspect,  but  she 
thought  of  it  with  diminished  confidence;  by  the 
light  of  bland  but  bootless  interviews,  the  promise 
of  bland  letters  looked  smaller  to  her.  She  was 
far  more  nervous  than  sanguine  when  she  pre- 
sented herself  at  the  office  again  and  inquired  if 
her  correspondent  had  returned. 

The  office  of  The  Aspect  was  not  imposing — 
it  shrunk  from  observation  in  an  alley,  and 
boasted  neither  a  liveried  doorkeeper  nor  dart- 
ing boys.  She  addressed  herself  to  a  faded  young 
man  behind  a  counter  that  looked  too  long  for 
him;  and  when  he  had  asked  her  name  he  lifted 
a  flap  in  the  counter  unceremoniously  and  went 
into  the  next  room. 

"Mr.  Savile  says,  will  you  go  in,  please,"  he 
said,  reappearing.  He  held  the  glass  door  open 
for  her;  and  an  elderly  gentleman,  whose  smile 
seemed  to  her  to  have  a  touch  of  curiosity  in  h\ 
rose  and  shook  hands  with  her. 

"Miss  Moore!  How  do  you  do?  I'm  pleased 
to  make  your  acquaintance." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Theodosia. 

"I'm  sorry  to  have  missed  you  when  you  called 
before." 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    205 

She  sat  down  in  an  armchair,  which,  like  all 
armchairs  in  the  scenes  of  nervous  interviews, 
had  been  constructed  undesirably.  Mr.  Savile 
smiled  again,  and  revolving  from  a  beautiful 
desk  that,  it  occurred  to  her,  would  be  better 
placed  in  her  father's  study,  said,  "So  you've 
come  to  London,  Miss  Moore!  Er — perma- 
nently?" 

"I've  come  chiefly  to  see  you,"  she  said.  "It 
Was  you  who  wrote  to  me,  wasn't  it?" 

He  bowed.  "I  am  honoured.  Yes,  it  was  I 
who  wrote  to  you.  I  am  the  proprietor  and 
editor  of  The  Aspect.  I  was  very  much  inter- 
ested by  your  stories,  Miss  Moore ;  I  found  them 
quite  out  of  the  common — very  individual.  And 
have  you  brought  something  else  to  show  me?" 

"No,"  she  acknowledged  regretfully,  "I 
haven't — I'm  not  thinking  of  fiction  just  now. 
.  .  .  Mr.  Savile,  I  want  to  find  a  post — I  don't 
mind  what  it  is — but  I  want  regular  work.  I've 
been  on  a  paper  already,  you  know,  the " 

"I  remember,"  he  nodded;  "your  first  manu- 
script came  from  the  office.  As  a  detail,  it  was 
the  stationery  you  wrote  on  that  drew  my  atten- 
tion to  the  manuscript.  As  a  rule,  the  stories 
sent  in  by  strangers  are  read  by  the  assistant 
editor,  but  seeing  that  you  weren't  a  novice,  I  put 
yours  in  my  pocket." 


206    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"I  thought  perhaps  the  stationery  might  do 
some  good,"  she  laughed;  "that  was  why  I  wrote 
to  you  on  it." 

"I  gave  you  credit  for  the  idea  at  the  time. 
Your  connection  with  the  Press  is — er — tem- 
porarily severed?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  pleasantly;  "I've  just  been 
discharged  for  incompetence." 

"Oh!  I  am  grieved  to  hear  that."  He  was 
refreshed — he  regarded  her  with  genuine  amuse- 
ment. "And  so  you  thought  you  might  suit  The 
Aspect?" 

"And  so  I  hoped  The  Aspect  might  come  to 
my  rescue.  Mr.  Savile,  I've  got  to  find  some- 
thing else  to  do!  I  thought  of  you  directly;  I 
came  here  as  soon  as  I  arrived,  and  when  they 
told  me  you  were  out  of  town,  I — it  wasn't  a 
nice  moment  at  all.  The  street  looked  ever  so 
much  uglier  when  I  went  out  than  when  I  came 
in.  Since  then  I've  been  trying  all  the  editors 
that  had  ever  heard  of  me — I've  even  tried  one 
or  two  that  hadn't — but  I  can't  find  a  vacancy 
anywhere.  If  you  won't  consider  me  either,  my 
journey's  a  failure." 

"But  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  consider  any- 
thing you  send  me,  Miss  Moore,  I  assure  you. 
At  any  time  that  you  care  to  let  me  see  a  story, 
it  shall  receive  every  attention.'* 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    207 

"Yes,"  she  said  feebly.  "It's  very  kind  of  you 
to  say  so  ...  but,  of  course,  that  leaves  me  in 
the  same  position  that  I  was  in  before  you  were 
good  enough  to  see  me.  What  I  want  to  do  is  to 
work  as  steadily  here  as  I  did  there — I  want  a 
salary." 

The  gentleman's  attentive  attitude  was  less 
encouraging.  Shorn  of  friendly  phrases  and 
bared  to  a  plain  unvarnished  tale,  his  discourse 
upon  the  difficulty  of  her  enterprise  was  a  well- 
intentioned  warning  that  she  was  unlikely  to  ac- 
complish it  in  a  month  of  Sundays.  "What  was 
the  nature  of  the  work  there?"  he  asked — "what 
feature  of  the  paper  did  you  undertake?" 

She  mentioned  several  features  that  she  had 
undertaken,  mentioning  them  with  no  enthu- 
siasm, since  the  face  of  The  Aspect  was  modelled 
on  a  different  plan.  "But  sometimes  I  did  the 
dramatic  criticism,"  she  added,  indicating  his 
opportunity. 

"Mr.  Pritchard  is  to  do  our  first-night  notices 
in  future,"  he  said,  and  crushed  her  with  a  Name. 
"So  you  sat  in  judgment,  too,  did  you?" 

"That  was  how  I  came  to  grief." 

"Oh?"  His  eyes  twinkled.  "I  hope  you 
weren't  too  severe?" 

"Well,  I  wrote  what  I  thought  too  candidly, 
and  the  chief  didn't  agree  with  my  opinion.  He 


208    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

had  no  complaint  to  make  of  me  in  any  other 
respect,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  but  they  found  me 
shockingly  incompetent  as  a  dramatic  critic." 

"Ah!"  He  recognised  that  she  was  laudably 
discreet  as  a  discharged  journalist.  "What  was 
the  play  that  you  objected  to,  Miss  Moore?" 

"There  had  been  several  differences  of  opin- 
ion," said  Theodosia;  "the  crisis  was  a  play  called 
London  Inside  Out" 

"That  monument  of  dramatic  art?"  He 
laughed  heartily.  "And  you  ventured  to  dis- 
approve? Dear,  dear!  Its  fame  has  even 
reached  me.  There's  an  exemplar  for  you — if 
you  want  to  grow  rich  by  authorship,  leave  liter- 
ature alone  and  write  masterpieces  like  London 
Inside  Out" 

"Ah!"  she  murmured.  "But  I'm  not  aspiring 
to  grow  rich  yet,  I'm  only  ambitious  to  earn  a 
living." 

In  no  other  office  had  the  conversation  been  so 
prolonged  as  here.  Mr.  Savile's  questions  led 
her  to  speak  of  her  parentage ;  he  referred  again 
very  warmly  to  her  work ;  and  by-and-by  she  was 
able  to  gather  that  the  journal  was  not  quite  so 
flourishing  a  property  as  she  had  supposed.  It 
proved  to  be  by  no  means  a  dejecting  visit,  al- 
though definitely  he  said  little  more  than  that  he 
would  be  glad  to  take  a  short  story  from  her  at 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    209 

the  price  of  a  guinea  as  often  as  she  could  offer 
to  him  one  that  he  found  suitable.  There  was  a 
tardy  allusion  to  a  possible  development  of  the 
paper — a  mere  hint  that  he  might  perhaps  be  in 
a  position  to  discuss  a  different  arrangement  a 
little  later  on;  and,  vague  as  the  hint  had  been, 
it  acquired  exciting  promise  when  she  inquired 
presently  whether  he,  like  the  others,  counselled 
her  to  beat  a  retreat  and  was  answered,  "Oh, 
well,  unless  you'd  find  it  more  convenient  to  re- 
turn, I — I  think  I  should  remain  in  town  for  the 
next  few  weeks.  Stay  in  Torrington  Square  and 
write  some  stories !  Anything  I  can  publish  shall 
be  paid  for  on  acceptance." 

It  was  the  longest  and  it  was  the  most  satis- 
factory of  her  experiences.  That  evening  she 
went  to  the  little  post-office  round  the  corner 
with  the  first  truly  hopeful  letter  that  she  had 
sent  home  since  she  reached  the  strange  land; 
and  next  day  when  she  woke,  it  was  luxurious  to 
remember  that  she  wasn't  forced  to  go  out.  She 
projected  a  tale  about  a  girl  like  herself  in  Fleet 
Street;  and,  excepting  for  the  luncheon  interval, 
she  spent  the  morning  and  most  of  the  afternoon 
in  writing  some  of  a  tale  about  a  totally  dissimi- 
lar girl  on  a  farm.  She  was  beginning  to  lose 
confidence  in  the  girl  and  her  own  abilities,  and 
even  in  the  exciting  hint,  when  a  bang  at  the 


210    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

door  preluded  an  announcement :  "A  Mr.  Tat- 
ham  was  harskin  for  her." 

She  thrust  a  pin  through  a  hat,  and  hurried. 
The  pleasure  was  vivid  in  the  passage,  the  ques- 
tions were  quick. 

"Well?" 

"Well?" 

She  smiled  and  nodded  reassuringly.  "I'm 
all  right.  How  sunburnt  you've  got!" 

"You  haven't  been  having  a  bad  time?  you've 
been  comfortable?" 

"No — yes,"  she  laughed.  "Shall  we  go  int  - 
the  Square? — there's  nowhere  to  talk  in  here." 

The  key  that  should  have  lain  on  the  hatstand 
wasn't  to  be  seen,  but  they  went  across  to  the 
gate  and  stood  waiting  for  someone  inside  to 
notice  them.  The  moments  were  so  few  before 
a  child  ran  over  the  lawn  at  her  signal  and  let 
them  in,  that  it  was  surprising  to  realise  how 
much  he  had  contrived  to  ask  and  to  hear  on  the 
kerb. 

"So  it  looks  hopeful,  doesn't  it?"  she  concluded 
gaily. 

"Hurrah!"  He  wanted  to  grip  her  hand 
again,  to  slip  his  arm  through  hers,  as  they  saun- 
tered along  the  path.  "I  was  all  wrong;  it's  a 
good  thing  you  wouldn't  listen  to  me." 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"Oh,  but  you  said  you  thought  you  were 
wrong — so  you  were  right!" 

"Yes,  I  hedged  shamefully,  didn't  I?  I  am 
so  glad;  I've  wondered  every  day.  And  the 
house — have  you  anybody  to  talk  to?" 

"It'll  do  to  go  on  with.  No,  there's  nobody 
to  say  much  to ;  but  there  wasn't  anybody  at  Mrs. 
Leake's  before  you  came.  Oh,  it's  dull,  of  course 
— one  can  feel  much  lonelier  among  the  wrong 
people  than  all  alone — but  my  room's  not  bad, 
and  I  often  come  and  sit  in  here.  You  said  the 
Square  would  make  it  nicer  for  me,  didn't  you? 
After  Fleet  Street  on  a  hot  afternoon  the  key 
has  been  a  boon  and  a  blessing.  At  the  other 
end,  if  you  half  shut  your  eyes  and  take  care 
which  way  you  look,  you  can  almost  think  it's 
country.  When  did  you  come  back  ?  you  haven't 
come  from  the  City  so  early?" 

"I  came  back  this  afternoon.  No,  I  don't  go 
hopping  again  till  to-morrow.  I  thought  I'd 
call  at  once,  in  case  there  was  anything  I  could 
do — in  case  anything  was  wrong." 

Her  smile  said  "Thank  you"  prettily.  .  .  . 
"Well,  you  don't  tell  me  if  you've  enjoyed  your- 
self? Did  you  leave  your  mother  all  right?" 

"My  mother  was  a  good  deal  changed,"  he 
said  thoughtfully;  "she  looks  her  age  now.  No, 
that  isn't  it!  she  always  looked  her  age;  but  she 


!!12    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

usedn't  to  talk  like  it,  she  usedn't  to  dress  like  it 
— I  usedn't  to  remember  how  old  she  was.  Now 
she  doesn't  pretend  any  more.  She  seems  to 
have  resigned  herself  to  old  age  all  at  once.  Of 
course  everybody  would  say  she  was  quite  right, 
but — but  her  having  done  it  all  at  once  made  it 
rather  pathetic  to  me  to  see.  .  .  .  No,  I  didn't 
enjoy  myself  particularly — better  than  you've 
done.  It's  a  pity  The  Aspect  man  wasn't  in  town 
when  you  arrived,  it  would  have  spared  you  a  lot, 
eh?  You've  been  miserable  sometimes?" 

She  gave  a  shrug.  "It  wasn't  so  bad  where 
I  had  had  some  work  taken — that  gave  me  some- 
thing to  say  as  I  went  in.  The  last  day  or  two, 
when  I  wasn't  sure  where  to  go — I  didn't  like  it 
then!  I  asked  the  way  to  some  paper  that  didn't 
look  too  unlikely,  too  heavy  or  distinguished,  and 
when  I  reached  the  office — I  walked  on!  There 
was  something  about  the  doorway  or  the  stair- 
case that  seemed  to  say  it  was  no  use  going  in. 
I  looked  at  shop  windows  first.  Have  you  come 
across  doors  like  that?" 

"All  the  stage  doors  up  West!"  he  said. 
"Well,  you're  going  to  stay,  after  all?" 

"I  hope  so." 

"So  do  I!  On  Saturdays  I  only  hop  for  half 
the  day;  if  I  might  come  on  Saturday  afternoon, 
I  could  show  you  places — I  could  show  you  the 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    213 

three  places  in  London  where  a  cup  of  coffee  is 
to  be  had;  one  of  them's  near  Fleet  Street,  and 

it's  shabby,  but  cheap.  I "  Again  he  was 

daunted  by  the  social  question.  They  had  sat 
down,  and  he  scratched  hieroglyphics  with  his 
stick  on  the  gravel.  "I  wish  you  knew  more 
about  me,"  he  faltered. 

Theodosia  said,  "I  know  you're  my  friend." 

"I  am.  I'd  like  to  be  a  very  real  friend  to  you 
if  you'll  let  me.  It  doesn't  sound  as  if  it  meant 
much — a  clerk  in  the  City — but  if  I  could  do 
anything  for  you,  I'd  do  it  like  a  shot." 

"I'm  sure  you  would." 

"I've  never  had  a  friend." 

"Before!"  said  the  girl  gently. 

Tatham  looked  beyond  the  railings,  seeing  no 
answer  to  the  question.  It  was  instinct,  not  rea- 
son, that  urged  him  to  declare  his  engagement, 
and  his  mind  groped  helplessly  for  the  casual 
phrase.  What  tangible  difference  did  it  make? 
Was  he  to  be  forbidden  friendship  because  he 
was  engaged  to  be  married?  .  .  .  Instinct  re- 
iterated that  she  must  be  told.  He  couldn't  see 
why,  but  he  ceased  to  rebel  against  instinct. 
Turning  to  her,  reluctantly  for  the  first  time,  he 
stammered : 

"You  don't  think  I  oughtn't  to  be  friends  with 
you  because  I'm  engaged,  do  you?" 


214    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

Suddenly  he  seemed  to  her  remote — even  while 
she  too  asked  of  herself  what  tangible  difference 
it  made.  The  instant  impulse  of  her  sex  was  dis- 
simulation ;  but  deeper,  and  more  significant,  was 
something  in  her  intimating  that  the  moment  was 
painful  for  him.  She  realised  that  the  moment 
was  painful  for  him,  and  that  he  was  at  her 
mercy,  though  her  brain  acknowledged  nothing 
to  account  for  his  being  at  her  mercy,  nor  to  ex- 
plain the  strange  aspect  of  the  moment. 

"You  don't  think  I  oughtn't  to  be  friends  with 
you  because  I'm  engaged,  do  you?" 

"Why  should  I?"  She  smiled.  It  appeared 
to  her  that  she  had  fulfilled  her  intention  and 
answered  brightly.  To  him  it  seemed  that  a 
shadow  fell  between  them. 

"That's  what  I  thought  you'd  say." 

"I  should  like  to  meet  her." 

"I  should  like  you  to,  very  much."  The 
shadow  was  darkening;  why  was  he  being  driven 
to  lie?  He  added  with  intense  relief,  "She's 
away  now,  on  tour." 

"Do  you  mean  she's  an  actress?" 

"Yes.    We've  been  engaged  for  years." 

"That's  all  the  nicer  in  one  way — you  must 
know  each  other  so  well." 

"Oh  yes." 

"And  she  can  understand  your  work." 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"Oh  yes,"  he  repeated,  labouredly  enthusiastic. 
"Of  course,  that's — that's  a  great  thing." 

Not  because  she  saw  that  he  was  more  to  her 
than  she  admitted — not  because  she  knew  the 
man  and  didn't  know  the  girl — simply  because 
she  was  a  woman,  it  was  to  the  man  that  her 
sympathy  went  out.  Maternally  she  was  sorry 
for  his  blunder.  "Maternally"  is  just.  But  from 
that  point  she  paltered  with  perception,  averting 
her  eyes  from  what  she  didn't  wish  to  see.  She 
didn't  wish  to  see  that,  since  he  was  to  marry  a 
girl  who  was  unsuited  to  him,  companionship 
might  prove  in  the  long  run  a  mistaken  kindness. 
His  loneliness  cried  to  her.  By  no  means  guilt- 
ily, by  no  means  selfishly,  she  was  eager  to  miti- 
gate the  loneliness. 

In  the  road  behind  them  a  piano-organ  hurled 
forth  an  interruption  too  strident  to  be  ignored, 
and  after  her  start  she  welcomed  it:  "There's 
a  procession  of  them  all  the  time;  I  don't  know 
why  the  notice-board  that  says  they  aren't  al- 
lowed in  the  Square  isn't  taken  away — it  seems 
silly  to  leave  it  there  1" 

They  moved  to  another  seat,  and  the  tension 
was  past.  On  both  sides  there  was  an  argument, 
ostensibly  impregnable — the  eternally  delusive 
argument  which  ignores  the  fact  that  man  and 
woman's  friendship  is  the  one  true  and  safe 
foundation  for  their  love. 


BOOK  III 

CHAPTER  I 

Miss  PEGGY  HAEPER  was  to  become  Mrs. 
Tatham  in  about  tbree  months'  time.  More  than 
eight  months  had  gone  by  since  Tatham  paid  his 
first  visit  to  Torrington  Square ;  and  in  the  mean- 
while he  had  stood  by  a  grave  in  the  Sweetbay 
cemetery,  and  the  proprietress  of  a  Sweetbay 
boarding-house  had  begun  to  forget  her  resent- 
ment of  the  "upset"  occasioned  by  a  boarder's 
dying  in  the  house. 

The  necessity  for  proposing  that  the  engage- 
ment should  materialise,  now  that  his  salary 
would  suffice  for  matrimony  on  such  lines  as  were 
familiar  to  the  Harpers,  was  not  the  only  thing 
that  the  interval  had  displayed  to  Tatham.  Pri- 
marily he  viewed  the  fact  that  he  loved  another 
woman,  and  with  all  his  soul  he  regretted  that  he 
had  not  summoned  the  courage  to  ask  Peggy  to 
release  him  directly  the  truth  was  clear.  Instead, 
he  had  denied  himself  Miss  Moore's  companion- 
ship in  many  hours  when  he  had  longed  for  it, 

217 


218    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

He  had  denied  it  to  himself  now  for  six  weeks 
on  end,  and  found  the  applause  of  conscience  in- 
adequate as  a  substitute.  Conscience,  indeed, 
tempered  its  applause  with  no  little  censure  at 
this  period.  He  should  have  been  frank  with 
Peggy!  He  should  have  been  frank  with  her 
last  autumn — he  should  have  been  frank  with  her 
long  before  that!  Conscience,  or  common  sense 
affirmed  that  he  should  have  been  frank  with  her 
before  they  had  been  engaged  a  week.  In  look- 
ing back,  it  seemed  that  it  would,  once,  have  been 
a  fairly  easy  thing  to  do.  It  seemed  that  it  would 
have  been,  comparatively,  an  easy  thing  to  do  at 
almost  any  time  prior  to  his  mother's  death. 
Afterwards Only  the  night  after  the  fu- 
neral, he  remembered  that  Mrs.  Harper  had  let 
fall  something  cheerily  and  horribly  significant! 
He  did  not  see  what  he  could,  in  decency,  have 
done  after  his  mother  died;  from  that  point,  it 
appeared  to  him,  the  marriage  had  been  in- 
evitable. 

He  made  these  reflections  again  as  he  trav- 
elled on  the  Tube  to  Islington,  the  locality  of 
Mrs.  Harper's  latest  "rooms."  It  was  Sunday, 
and  the  girl,  once  more  touring,  was  due,  at  some 
hour  to-day,  from  Brighton.  When  Liverpool 
Road  was  reached  and  the  door  had  been  opened, 
a  theatrical  hamper  blocking  the  passage  showed 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    219 

him  that  she  had  arrived  already,  and  on  the  first 
floor  he  learnt  that  she  had  preceded  him  by  only 
a  few  minutes. 

"Hallo,  Chris,"  she  cried,  "here  I  am!" 
She  greeted  him  in  high  spirits.  Although  she 
hated  the  bother  of  letter-writing  when  she  was 
away,  she  was  always  glad  to  see  him  on  her 
return — she  would  have  been  very  dull  in  Lon- 
don "without  a  boy  to  talk  to."  And  she  was 
glad  that  she  was  going  to  be  married.  It  was 
true  that,  pestered,  or  taken  to  task  by  Naomi 
Knight  last  year,  she  had  said  that  it  "didn't  hurt 
being  engaged,  and  that  it  was  nice  to  have  some- 
one to  pay  her  bus  fares  when  she  was  in  town"; 
but  now,  since  his  mother  had  "popped  off  and 
he  had  all  his  screw  to  himself,"  she  contem- 
plated the  matter  from  a  different  point  of  view. 
To  remember  that  she  would  have  to  go  on  work- 
ing for  only  a  few  months  longer  had  exhilarated 
her  more  highly  every  time  she  dwelt  upon  it; 
and  privately  she  was  of  the  opinion  that  a 
briefer  interval  between  his  bereavement  and  the 
wedding  would  have  met  the  case. 

"Well,  young  man,  and  how  are  you?1  said 
Betsy  Harper.  "When  I  was  engaged  to  be 
married  and  came  back  from  tour,  Peggy's  pa 
used  to  turn  up  at  the  station  and  pay  my  cab  1" 
There  was  a  touch  of  acrimony  in  the  banter. 


220    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"Now  then,  mother!" 

"Perhaps  you  wrote  him  what  train  you  were 
coming  by?"  said  Tatham  drily.  "All  I  heard 
was,  'Home  on  Sunday.' ' 

"Chris  is  all  right,"  put  in  the  girl.  "How 
goes  it,  Chris?  No  news,  I  suppose?" 

"Nothing  good,"  he  acknowledged.  "You're 
looking  very  fit." 

"Oh,  I'm  going  strong,"  she  announced,  tak- 
ing off  her  hat.  "I've  had  an  offer !" 

"Yes,  I  don't  think  1"  remarked  Mrs.  Harper. 

"Straight  1" 

"Well,  but  you  don't  need  any  other  engage- 
ment," he  said ;  "this  tour  doesn't  finish  for  three 
weeks,  does  it?" 

"Fortnight — Deptford    and    Hammersmith." 

"What  do  you  mean,  she  'doesn't  need  any 
other  engagement,'  if  she  isn't  going  to  get  mar- 
ried before  August?  What's  she  to  live  on,  do 
you  think?  Things  aren't  so  gay  with  me,  I  can 
teUyou!  Offer  for  what?" 

"The  Piccadilly,  if  you  please!  How's  that?" 
She  turned  from  the  mirror  to  enjoy  the  effect. 
"A  part  at  the  Piccadilly!  That'll  do  to  fill  in 
the  time,  won't  it?" 

"Go  on!  you  don't  so  much  as  know  what 
they're  doing  at  the  Piccadilly,  you  silly  kid!" 

"I  know  what  the  next  production's  to  be — a 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

new  comedy  of  Forsyth  Js.  Give  me  a  cig,  Chris, 
I'm  dying  for  a  smoke."  Her  nod  was  emphatic. 
"I'm  not  rotting — it's  right  enough.  He  came  in 
to  see  the  show  the  other  night  at  Brighton;  he 
wrote  asking  me  to  go  and  see  him  at  the  Old 
Ship ;  he  was  as  sweet  as  sweet  when  I  went." 

"Forsyth?" 

"Talked  to  me  as  if  he'd  been  my  father!" 

Betsy  Harper  was  agape.  "Oh,  well,  I  don't 
know  anything  about  the  business,  that's  all," 
she  said ;  "I  don't  know  talent  when  I  see  it !  All 
right,  one  lives  and  learns."  She  stared  at  the 
girl  round-eyed.  "It's  the  funniest  bit  Z  ever 
heard  in  my  life  I" 

Tatham  noted  that  the  maternal  disparage- 
ment found  Peggy  less  meek  than  usual  on  the 
subject  of  her  abilities.  He  said  quickly: 

"Well,  she's  been  paid  a  pretty  substantial 
compliment.  Forsyth  is  supposed  to  know  as 
much  about  the  stage  as  any  man  alive,  isn't  he? 
^What  sort  of  part  is  it,  Peggy?" 

"Very  good,"  drawled  the  girl;  and  having 
[waited  till  this  intelligence  had  sunk,  she  added 
with  a  self-conscious  smile,  "Lead!  ...  If  you 
want  to  know" — she  was  addressing  her  speech- 
less mother — "he  told  me  there  wasn't  a  woman 
in  London  that  could  touch  it — he  said  the  stars 
were  all  a  precious  sight  too  old.  He  told  me 


222    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

I  had  exactly  the  right  appearance,  that  I  was 
just  the  girl  he'd  been  looking  for.  .  .  .  I'm  to 
go  to  his  house  to-morrow,  and  he's  going  to  read 
the  part  to  me.  The  heroine's  not  supposed  to 
be  more  than  seventeen — she's  at  school  in  the 
first  act ;  he's  going  to  show  me  just  how  he  wants 
it  played.  He's  shown  me  a  bit  already.  He 
says  if  I  put  myself  in  his  hands,  he  'guarantees' 
I  can  do  it — and  'make  a  hit'!  There's  nothing 
the  matter  with  Forsyth!  you  should  hear  him 
speak  some  of  his  lines — he  might  have  been  an 
actor." 

"He  was  an  actor,"  faltered  Betsy  Harper; 
"didn't  you  know  that?"  The  situation  was 
mystifying  her  less.  "Well,  it's  a  bit  of  luck  and 
no  mistake !  My  word,  if  it  had  only  come  along 
a  bit  sooner!"  There  was  umbrage  in  the  look 
she  bent  on  Tatham.  "What  do  you  think  of 
your  girl  now?"  she  demanded.  "You  aren't 
throwing  yourself  away,  my  King  Cophetua!" 

"I  never  was,  Mrs.  Harper,"  he  said. 

"Ah !  some  people  didn't  think  so." 

"But,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned,  she  can  refuse 
the  engagement.  She  won't  go  on  playing  the 
part  after  we  marry,  anyhow." 

"Of  course  I  shan't!  Besides,  the  piece  may 
be  off  before  then." 

"I  make  you  a  wager  you  change  your  mind, 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

Mister  Christopher.  Now  then,  like  a  bet  on  it? 
'Won't  go  on  playing  it  after  you  marry'  ?  Yes, 
I  see  you  advising  her  to  give  it  up  if  she's  get- 
ting big  money!  You  mil  be  so  flush  that  your 
wife's  salary  won't  matter  to  you,  won't  you? 
I  heard  something  about  you  the  other  day." 

"Oh,  something  nice?"  he  murmured. 

"No,  it  wasn't.  Something  about  your  plays !" 
She  turned  eagerly  to  her  daughter.  "You  don't 
know  what  terms  he's  got  in  his  head,  Peggy?" 

"Well,  'tisn't  likely;  terms  haven't  been  men- 
tioned yet.  They'll  be  good  enough,  whatever 
they  are — pay  our  exes  in  these  digs  while  I'm 
here." 

"You  leave  the  contract  to  me"  said  Mrs. 
Harper;  "I'm  the  person  to  look  after  that  till 
you're  a  married  woman.  Don't  you  sign  any- 
thing; I'll  'talk  terms'  for  you,  d'ye  hear?" 

"Thanks,  I  can  do  all  that's  wanted,"  said 
Peggy  sharply.  "I  know;  you'd  go  asking  too 
much  and  queering  the  job  for  me." 

"What  do  you  say,  miss?" 

"I  know!  'Tisn't  to  be  expected  they'll  give 
me  a  big  chance,  and  star  terms  besides.  Stands 
to  sense  they  won't.  I  don't  want  it  lost  by  any- 
body opening  her  mouth  too  wide.  Now,  it's  no 
good,  mother!"  she  exclaimed;  and  Tatham,  who 
had  been  apprehensive  of  an  outburst  from  Mrs. 


224    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

Harper,  was  relieved  to  see  her  subside.  "I 
found  this  shop  for  myself,  and  if  I've  got  to  go 
on  working  till  August,  I  mean  to  work  where  it 
suits  me.  I'm  not  going  on  tour  again — I'm  sick 
of  it !  I'm  going  to  the  Piccadilly." 

"  'Found  it  for  herself!"  muttered  Mrs.  Har- 
per. "Dropped  out  of  the  skies  into  her  lap  I" 

"Very  well,  then,  leave  it  where  it  dropped — ? 
don't  go  muffing  it."  She  glanced  towards  Tat- 
ham  for  approval.  "What  time's  tea  supposed 
to  come  on  here?  Chris,  you  may  give  me  an- 
other cig,  under  the  circs." 

But  the  matter  was  hy  no  means  disposed  of. 
The  old  actress  was  fully  awake  now  to  the  fact 
that  a  dramatist  of  importance  would  find  her 
daughter's  childish  air  a  valuable  asset  for  his 
next  play,  and  the  fear  that  the  chance  was  not 
to  be  turned  to  the  best  advantage  obsessed  her. 
Her  emotion  was  no  longer  incredulity,  nor 
amazement,  nor  gratitude — it  was  greed  unadul- 
terated. Thrice  she  returned,  by  circuitous 
routes,  to  the  question  of  the  salary,  and  Tatham 
sat  nervous  of  high  words  occurring  after  all. 

At  last,  seizing  the  opportunity  afforded  by 
a  pause,  he  put  in : 

"By  the  way,  who  was  it  who  was  talking  to 
you  about  me  the  other  day — what  was  it  he 
said?" 


,THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HAKPER 

It  served.    She  regarded  him  sombrely. 

"It  was  Beaver — if  you  know  who  he  is." 

"The  business  manager  at  the  Diadem?" 

"Oh,  you  have  heard  as  much  as  that!  Yes, 
I  was  having  a  chat  with  him  about  you." 

"I  suppose  he  said  my  comedy  wasn't  any 
good?" 

"Beaver  don't  read  the  pieces — he  won't  look 
at  your  comedy,  my  lord.  And  no  more  will 
anybody  else,  by  all  accounts  1  If  you  want  to 
know,  he  told  me  you  were  wasting  your  time 
sending  your  manuscripts  about  the  West  End 
— he  said  he  didn't  know  what  you  could  be  think- 
ing of.  'Good  gracious  1'  he  said,  'the  man  must 
be  crazy.  You  don't  suppose  a  high-class  man- 
agement is  going  to  consider  anything  by  the 
author  of  London  Inside  Out?'  .  .  .  Even  if 
you  took  another  name — even  supposing  you  did 
get  a  play  done — he  said  you'd  never  get  a  suc- 
cess. The  critics  'd  be  sure  to  hear  who  you  were, 
and  they'd  be  prejudiced  against  your  work  be- 
fore they  went.  .  ,  *  So  that's  how  much  chance 
you've  got !" 

He  neither  spoke  nor  flinched,  but  his  face  was 
colourless.  The  career  of  a  melodrama  which 
was  in  the  course  of  time  to  earn  upwards  of 
thirty  thousand  pounds  for  its  owner,  though  it 
had  left  its  author  on  an  office  stool,  was  now 


226    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

notorious  in  the  theatrical  world,  but  this  was  the 
first  plain  intimation  he  had  had  that  its  notoriety 
was  fatal  to  him.  Often  as  he  had  questioned 
and  trembled,  it  seemed  to  him,  in  the  sick  in- 
stant, that  the  blow  took  him  unawares.  "Wast- 
ing his  time"!  Whatever  its  qualities,  anything 
he  might  write  was  damned  in  advance.  Nothing 
to  hope  for — his  work  wasn't  to  be  read.  The 
clerkship  for  life !  .  »  .  He  went  home  from  the 
clerkship  twenty  years  hence,  and  "home"  meant 
the  bitterness  of  failure,  and  loneliness,  and  the 
remembrance  of  the  right  woman.  .  .  . 

The  shrillness  of  Peggy's  voice  jerked  him 
back — the  girl  was  protesting,  offering  encour- 
agement. The  sense  of  what  she  was  saying 
began  to  reach  his  mind. 

"I  don't  see,"  cried  Peggy,  "that  it  matters 
what  you  write,  if  it  pays.  Let  the  West  End 
slide,  then!  Go  on  writing  plays  like  London 
Inside  Out,  Chris — that's  the  best  way.  If  you 
ask  me.  Beaver's  given  us  a  jolly  good  tipl" 


CHAPTER  II 

HE  had  not  known  he  was  going  there;  his 
only  definite  aim,  when  he  got  up,  was  to  be  alone 
with  his  thoughts.  As  he  drew  a  deep  breath 
outside  the  house,  he  was  intensely  thankful  that 
he  had  devised  an  adequate  excuse  for  escaping 
early.  So  far  from  having  intended  to  go  to  her, 
he  had  traversed  the  dreariness  of  Pentonville 
Road  afoot,  instead  of  whisking  westward  by 
train.  It  was  when  he  reached  King's  Cross  that 
desolation  clamoured  for  her.  It  would  not  mat- 
ter what  she  said;  he  was  not  even  certain  that 
he  wished  to  speak  of  what  he  had  heard.  As  yet 
he  was  acutely  conscious  of  nothing  but  the  need 
of  seeing  her — he  sought  only  the  alleviation  of 
her  presence. 

She  was  living  in  Heathcote  Street  now. 
When  a  tentative  appointment  on  The  Aspect 
had  begun  to  acquire  the  promise  of  permanency, 
she  had  installed  herself  in  furnished  apartments. 
He  found  her  in  the  tiny  parlour  with  her  hat 
on. 

1227 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"I'm  a  nuisance?"  he  asked.  "You  were  going 
out." 

"With  nowhere  to  go!"  she  said,  pulling  out 
the  hat-pins  promptly.  "The  room  was  getting 
on  my  nerves  a  little,  that's  all,  or  perhaps  it  was 
the  twilight — we'll  have  the  gas;  have  you  a 
match  in  your  pocket?" 

He  lit  the  gas,  and  she  saw  and  said  that  he 
was  looking  tired. 

"Am  I?"  The  mantelshelf  was  fragrant  and 
vivid  with  masses  of  lilac  and  carnations.  There 
was  a  bowl  of  them  on  the  table  too.  "You've 
been  very  reckless !" 

"They  came  from  our  garden  at  home;  it's  my 
birthday." 

He  wished  her  "Many  happier  returns." 

"It  hasn't  been  festive.  I  had  no  idea  I 
should  feel  so  sentimental  about  it,  but  I  wish  it 
hadn't  fallen  on  Sunday — that  made  it  lonelier. 
.  .  .  You  see,  you  aren't  a  nuisance,  you're  quite 
a  tolerable  event." 

She  didn't  ask  him  why  he  had  stayed  away  so 
long,  because  she  knew. 

"It  must  be  a  jolly  garden,"  said  the  man,  pic- 
turing her  in  a  garden. 

"It  isn't  very  well  kept;  there  are  only  the  girls 
to  look  after  it,  and  we  leave  the  daisies  on  the 
lawn,  but  I  think  it's  rather  nice.  We've  a  foun- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    229 

tain,  of  sorts;  we're  very  vain  of  our  shabby 
fountain.  It  plays  the  Prince  of  Wales's  feath- 
ers— when  the  water-rate  terror  hasn't  just  been; 
after  we've  paid  a  water  rate,  we  only  let  it 
trickle,  for  a  week  or  two.  .  .  .  Oh  I"  She  took 
up  a  little  stack  of  typewriting.  "I've  read 
Sliams.  I  ought  to  have  sent  it  back  to  you.  I 
want  to  keep  it  a  little  longer,  though,  if  I  may? 
I  think  it's  the  biggest  thing  you've  done." 

"I'm  glad  you  like  it.  No,  I'm  in  no  hurry  to 
have  it  back;  you  can  keep  it  for  ever,  if  you  like; 
you're  the  only  person  who'll  ever  have  a  good 
word  to  say  for  it!'* 

The  question  in  her  eyes  was  insistent.  He 
looked  away,  opened  one  of  the  acts  and  ruffled 
the  leaves,  and  tossed  it  back  on  to  the  table. 
"I've  got  the  blues !"  he  burst  out. 

"They're  obvious.  .  .  .  Bluer  than  normal, 
aren't  they?"  she  asked,  smiling  crookedly. 

"I've  made  a  reputation!  They  say  I  must 
be  crazy  to  go  on  sending  my  stuff,  that  nothing 
with  my  name  on  it  will  ever  be  looked  at  in  a 
London  theatre  from  now  to  the  Day  of  Judg- 
ment. I'm  labelled  a  'hack/  so  nothing  I  do  can 
ever  be  worth  the  paper  it's  written  on — and 
that's  the  cheapest  sold;  nobody's  going  to  turn 
a  page  to  see  what  it's  like!" 


280    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

Challenge  was  in  the  girl's  voice.  "Who's 
'they'?" 

"Oh,  a  man  who  ought  to  know;  somebody 
'inside';  he  had  no  reason  to  lie  about  it.  He 
may  be  wrong,  of  course,  but  that's  his  candid 
opinion.  He  told  Mrs.  Harper — who  amiably 
told  me.  Oh,  I  don't  blame  her  for  telling  me, 
she  was  quite  right  to  let  me  know,  but  I've  had 
a  rollicking  afternoon."  He  tried  to  laugh. 
"So  I've  dropped  in  to  cheer  you  up  on  your 
birthday — not  having  been  near  you  for  six 
weeks,  while  there  was  nothing  worse  than  usual 
the  matter  with  me!" 

He,  too,  had  kept  count  of  the  weeks!  Her 
heart  missed  a  beat. 

"Even  if  he's  right "  she  began,  and  per- 
ceived that  he  knew  what  she  was  going  to  say. 
"Another  name  wouldn't  help?"  she  queried. 

"So  I'm  told.  He  said  that,  even  if  I  did 
get  something  done,  the  Press  wouldn't  take  it 
seriously.  He  said  the  critics  would  know  whom 
it  was  by." 

"How?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  said  it  would  be  bound 
to  leak  out.  It  isn't  as  if  I  were  just  a  rotter 
who'd  written  failures,  you  see — I've  the  dis- 
tinction of  being  a  rotter  who's  written  muck 
that  everybody  has  heard  of.  The  idea  seems  to 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    231 

be  that  there  are  crimes  so  bad  that  nothing  can 
conceal  them — 'nor  earth,  nor  sea,  though  they 
should  be  ten  thousand  fathoms  deep' I  I  don't 
think  the  gentleman  suggests  the  critics  would 
have  any  animus  against  me,  why  should  they? 
He  means  they'd  go  persuaded  that  the  cloven 
foot  was  going  to  show  and  that  they'd  find  what 
they  were  jolly  well  looking  for.  *The  dialogue 
is  passable,  but  the  melodramatic  nature  of  the' 

theme or  'The  theme  is  pleasant,  but 

the  author's  experience  of  provincial  melo- 
drama  '  To "  He  choked.  "I  wish  the 

damned  thing  were — I  beg  your  pardon!" 

The  hands  in  her  lap  rose  and  fell  with  a  little 
futile  gesture.  It  was  the  first  time  that  she 
had  seen  him  despair,  and — not  because  she  loved 
him,  love  may  be  inept — because  she  was  an  art- 
ist she  understood.  Her  gaze  turned  to  the 
thing  of  brains  and  typewriting  on  a  garish  table- 
cover,  and  for  comfort  she  tapped  it. 

"Some  day!"  she  prophesied.  "You'll  seel 
The  name  you're  afraid  of  is  going  to  'mean 
things'  some  day.  I  don't  say  it  because  we're 
friends — I've  told  you  I  didn't  like  some  of  your 
things.  But  some  day,  in  places  like  this,  no- 
bodies like  us  will  be  wishing  they  were  Chris- 
topher Tatham,  and  yearning  as  you  yearn  now." 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  the  room 


S38    CTHE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

that  was  so  limited  that  five  short  steps  took  him 
from  the  window  to  the  shiny  chiffonier. 

"Everything's  a  fraud!"  he  exclaimed. 
"  *  Yearn'?  It's  a  big  word  for  a  trumpery  am- 
bition. Yes,  of  course,  I  want  to  get  on.  I 
want  to  make  my  way,  it's  a  man's  duty,  but  rec- 
ognition isn't  everything.  It  wouldn't  mean 
happiness.  It  sounds  like  sour  grapes.  But  one 
changes.  It's  extraordinary  how  one  changes! 
I  wanted  to  be  an  actor  once — it  wouldn't  give 
me  any  pleasure  now.  It  isn't  the  footlights  that 
dazzle  me  to-day.  If  I  could  succeed  in  any 
capacity  at  all! — I  write  because  it's  the  only 
thing  I  can  do;  I'm  not  satisfied  to  jog  along  as 
a  clerk  all  my  life,  that's  what  it  amounts  to.  I 
want  a  career.  I  want  a  career  because  I've 
nothing  else  to  look  forward  to.  ...  You 
know!3'  He  flung  round  at  her  as  if  she  had  pro- 
tested. "You  know  I've  made  a  mess  of  it!  I 
wasn't  in  love  with  her  the  night  I  proposed ;  I 
didn't  mean  to  propose.  It  happened.  Well, 
I've  stuck  it — honour  or  cowardice,  I  don't  know 
— I've  stuck  it,  and  I  suppose  I've  got  to  go 
through  with  it,  she's  waited  for  me  so  many 
years;  but  if  I'm  to  fail  in  love,  and  everything 

else  as  well Do  you  think  it's  too  late? 

Look  here,  we're  pals,  aren't  we?    I  want  a  pal's 
advice.     I'm  fond  of  somebody  else.     I  don't 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

know  whether  she  cares  for  me.  I  mustn't  ask 
her — yet;  she  wouldn't  tell  me  if  I  did  ask  her; 
but  I  could  be  happy,  even  as  a  clerk,  as  long  as 
1  lived,  if  I  could  go  home  in  the  evening  to  the 
other  woman.  .  .  .  That's  the  situation;  that's 
how  I  feel  1  What's  the  straight  thing  for  me  to 
do?" 

'He  didn't  say,  "I  love  you,"  she  didn't  say, 
"I  understand."  When  she  trusted  her  voice 
and  found  that  it  broke,  she  whispered: 

"It  is  too  late." 

"Why?" 

"Five  years — six  years,  what  is  it?  She  must 
care  for  you  a  good  deal  to  have  waited  so  long 
as  that.  .  .  .  And  don't  forget  that  the  other 
woman  mayn't  care  in  the  same  way." 

"If  she  did ?"  he  urged,  drawing  closer  to 

her. 

"It  would  make  no  difference — in  my  opin- 


ion." 


"Not  if  I  were  free — if  I  could  go  to  her  hon- 
estly to-morrow  and  tell  her  I  was  free?" 

"If  she'd  any  self-respect,  she'd  be  ashamed  of 
herself;  she'd  think  of  the  girl  that  she  had  made 
miserable ;  she'd  think  of  the  girl  almost  as  much 
as  she  thought  of  you.  If  she's — if  she's  worth 
wanting,  she  wouldn't  find  the  position  good 
enough  1" 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"That's  how  it  seems  to  you?"  he  said. 

She  nodded.  "That's  how  it  seems  to  me.  I 
can't  answer  for  you;  you're  a  man,  you  might 
break  it  off  and  feel  no  regret — I  can't  say.  I 
don't  know  Miss  Harper,  and  I  can't  pretend  to 
shape  your  future,  but  I  can  put  myself  in  the 
place  of  the  other  woman — it  wouldn't  take  you 
any  nearer  to  Tier" 

After  a  long  silence,  he  said  harshly: 

"I  suppose  I  may  as  well  stick  it  altogether, 
then.  It's  hardly  worth  while  to  behave  like  a 
cad  for  nothing.  .  .  .  I've  been  a  cheerful  vis- 
itor! Do  you  know,  I  think  I'll  say  'good- 
night.' " 

Both  knew  that  it  meant  "good-bye." 

"Good-night,"  she  said,  white-faced  and  smil^ 
ing. 

The  few  seconds  seemed  insuff erably  long  be- 
fore the  slam  of  the  street  door  and  the  sound  of 
retreating  footsteps  made  it  safe  for  her  to  give 
way. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  precise  number  of  more  talented  and  am- 
bitious young  women  who  would  have  welcomed 
ecstatically  the  chance  that  had  befallen  a  young 
woman  possessing  only  mediocre  ability,  and  no 
ambition  at  all,  cannot  be  stated.  But  some 
scores  of  them  were,  at  the  time,  seeking  the 
humblest  of  engagements  vainly.  And  when  it 
is  said  that  W.  B.  Forsyth  had  gone  to  Brighton 
expressly  to  see  Peggy  Harper,  and  rejoiced  in 
his  fauteuil,  the  situation  may  appear  more 
anomalous  still. 

Forsyth's  thanksgiving,  however,  was  not  in- 
spired by  admiration  of  Miss  Harper's  histrionic 
capabilities.  He  was  under  no  impression  that 
he  had  discovered  a  genius,  nor,  as  a  dramatist  of 
experience  and  reputation,  was  he  in  the  habit  of 
exploring  for  geniuses — he  found  it  a  far  more 
profitable  policy  to  cast  established  favourites  in 
his  plays.  He  had  gone  to  Brighton  because  he 
had  been  suffering,  for  the  past  three  months, 
from  a  sensation  not  widely  removed  from  panic, 
a  liability  to  wake  in  the  night  and  ask  himself, 

235 


236    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

with  an  all-gone  feeling  in  the  stomach,  why  h0 
had  been  so  rash  as  to  devote  a  year  to  the  writing 
of  a  piece  which  demanded  for  its  adequate  in- 
terpretation a  personality  possessed  by  no  actress 
that  he  could  call  to  mind.  In  fine,  for  the  first; 
time  since  he  had  attained  a  position,  Forsyth 
had  done  an  unpractical  thing;  his  theme — most 
promising  in  the  scenario — had  lured  him  to  in- 
discretion. The  chief,  the  big  part  was,  of 
course,  a  man's,  since  the  play  had  been  designed 
for  the  Piccadilly  Theatre,  and  Onslow,  the  ac- 
tor-manager, was  to  be  the  hero;  but  the  hero 
had  a  daughter,  * 'Daphne,"  and,  as  the  work  de- 
veloped, "Daphne"  had  taken  unto  herself  an 
importance  for  which  her  progenitor  had  been 
unprepared  at  the  outset.  To  reduce  the  daugh- 
ter would  be  to  detract  from  the  father — to  de- 
tract from  the  father  would  be  to  spoil  the  play. 
Forsyth,  the  eminent,  had  appealed  to  a 
dramatic  agent  with  an  anxiety  as  keen  as  the 
agent's  poorest  client.  The  harassed  play- 
wright had  viewed  photographs  by  the  dozen, 
and  made  fatiguing  journeys  to  view  some  of 
the  originals.  He  had  been  to  Kingston-on- 
Thames  to  see  a  girl  who  was  actually  as  young 
as  "Daphne"  was  supposed  to  be,  but  she  had 
comported  herself  with  all  the  stiff  timidity  of 
the  stage  novice,  and  he  had  realised,  even  while 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    237, 

he  deplored,  that  she  wasn't  to  be  trained  in  the 
few  weeks  at  his  disposal.  "You'll  never  find 
every  quality  you  want!"  Mrs.  Forsyth  had  re- 
minded him,  when  he  returned  despondent  to  an- 
nounce that  the  journey  had  been  waste  of  time; 
and  he  had  answered,  "I  don't  suppose  I  shall, 
my  dear,  but  I  can't  have  an  ungainly  Daphne; 
I'd  rather  have  any  defect  than  ungainliness  I" 
He  had  travelled  to  Cheltenham  to  see  another 
girl,  who  would  have  recommended  herself  to 
him  but  for  the  fact  that  she  weighed  too  much; 
and  again  his  wife  had  mentioned  the  unlikeli- 
hood of  his  securing  the  ideal  exponent  of  the 
part.  "I  can't  have  an  adipose  Daphne,"  he 
had  said;  "I'm  willing  to  put  up  with  anything 
but  adiposity!"  Miss  Harper  was  not  too 
stout,  nor  too  tall,  nor  too  short;  her  voice  had 
some  pleasant  notes  in  it,  and  wrould  be  very 
agreeable  when  he  had  taught  her  how  to  use  it; 
and,  during  the  interview  at  the  hotel,  she  had 
impressed  him  as  being  plastic  material.  He 
wr.s  infinitely  relieved;  and  so  was  Mrs.  For- 
syth, who  had  found  him  latterly  "gey  ill  to  live 
with." 

When  Peggy  made  her  toilette  on  the  after- 
noon after  her  return  to  town,  her  mother  wan- 
dered about  the  room  querulously. 

"You'll  be  sorry  when  it's  no  good  if  you  don't 


238    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

leave  it  to  me,"  she  said;  "you'll  go  too  cheap, 
mark  my  words !  You've  no  idea  what  you  ought 
to  get — how  should  you  have?  you've  never  seen 
a  salary  worth  talking  about.  I  suppose  if  they 
offered  you  five  pounds  a  week  you'd  take  it?" 

"You  bet  I  should!"  said  the  girl, 

"What?" 

"I'd  a  jolly  sight  rather  have  five  pounds  a 
week  in  London  than  thirty  bob  on  tour  I  What 
do  you  think?" 

She  continued  to  array  herself  complacently. 
All  her  belongings  were  not  unpacked  yet,  and 
alternately  she  searched  for  trifles  in  the  chest  of 
drawers,  and  dived  for  finery  in  the  hamper. 

"Some  people  don't  deserve  to  have  any  luck 
•• — some  people  don't  know  luck  when  they  see 
it!  My  word,  you  with  a  mother  that  knows  the 
ropes,  talking  about  five  pounds  a  week!  You 
little  fool,  you!" 

"Mind,  please,  mother,  you're  getting  in  the 
way!" 

"Oh,  I'll  mind — mind  my  own  business,  too! 
What  does  it  matter  to  me  if  you  throw  your 
chance  away?"  Her  arms  were  dramatic. 
"What  does  it  matter  to  me,  now  you're  going 
to  get  married?  That's  it,  that's  the  way- 
pinch  and  strain  for  your  girl  all  your  life,  and 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    289 

then  as  soon  as  a  bit  of  luck  comes  to  her,  off  she 
goes  to  a  fellow  1" 

Peggy  contemplated  two  pairs  of  soiled  kid 
gloves.  "I  don't  know  whether  to  put  on  the 
white  or  the  fawn,"  she  said.  " Which  do  you 
think  would  go  best?  Chris  says  white  gloves 
are  'noisy.' ' 

"Chris  be  bothered,"  snapped  Mrs.  Harper. 
"Put  on  the  white!  What  does  Chris  know? 
I'm  fed  up  with  your  Chris.  A  nice  soft  thing 
for  him,  won't  it  be,  to  have  a  wife  to  keep  him?" 

"He  won't  have  a  wife  to  keep  him,  because 
he  wants  me  to  leave  the  profession,  and  you 
know  it  very  well — so  don't  talk  rot,  mother!  I 
don't  know  why  you've  got  your  knife  into  him 
all  of  a  sudden,"  she  went  on  sharply.  "You 
liked  him  very  much  once ;  he  hasn't  changed,  so 
far  as  I  can  see !" 

"No,  and  never  will — he's  a  sticker,  that's  what 
he  is.  Never  do  any  good  as  long  as  he  lives." 

"That's  as  may  be,"  said  the  girl  defiantly. 
"Look  here,  stop  it!  I  don't  want  a  row,  I've 
got  something  else  to  think  about  to-day.  Stop 
it,"  she  repeated,  with  a  catch  in  her  voice,  "com- 
ing and  nagging  me  just  when  I  want  to  go  out 
looking  my  best!" 

She  surveyed  herself  in  the  mirror  again,  and 
slipped  some  more  shilling  bangles  on  her  wrists. 


240    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

!A.  vulgar  hat  aggravated  a  vivid  blouse,  made  at 
home  and  made  badly.  Her  reflection  encour- 
aged her,  and  the  occasion  was  sufficiently  excit- 
ing for  her  to  recover  her  spirits  almost  as  soon 
as  she  was  in  the  street.  By  the  light  of  an  of- 
fer for  a  fashionable  theatre,  the  detested  pro- 
fession looked  already  less  odious  to  her,  and  she 
was  at  one  with  her  mother  in  deeming  it  a  thou- 
sand pities  that  such  advancement  had  not  oc- 
curred to  her  a  long  time  ago.  The  tears  and 
troubles  that  she  would  have  been  spared!  Why 
couldn't  somebody  have  seen  a  few  years  earlier 
how  clever  she  was?  .  .  . 

Wouldn't  Naomi  Knight,  and  Nelson,  and 
everybody  else  that  she  had  ever  met  be  aston- 
ished when  they  saw  the  news  in  The  Stage!  She 
smiled  broadly  on  the  pavements  of  Liverpool 
Road  in  imagining  their  ejaculations.  "Lor, 
look  at  this,  Peggy  Harper  goes  to  the  Picca- 
dilly I'*  In  the  bus  another  girl,  obviously  an 
actress,  sat,  adorned  with  cheap  finery  and  jin- 
gling with  bangles;  it  was  exhilarating  to  sur- 
mise that  she  was  going  up  West  to  try  to  find 
an  engagement  in  a  No.  2  company.  "She 
wouldn't  half  like  to  have  an  appointment  with 
Forsyth,  would  she?"  mused  Peggy.  "What 
ho!" 

But  a  tessellated  entrance  and  the  splendour 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

of  the  hall-porter  were  a  shade  intimidating. 
Though  she  had  visited  many  a  person  whose 
abode  was  called  a  "flat,"  Forsyth's  was  the  first 
flat  that  she  had  seen. 

Her  embarrassment  was  dispelled  by  the  great 
man's  greeting;  his  pleasure  was  evident  as  he 
welcomed  her.  No  repugnant  detail  of  her  cos- 
tume escaped  his  notice,  but  her  taste  in  dress 
mattered  nothing  to  him,  for  "Daphne's"  frocks 
would  come  from  Bond  Street,  and  Mrs.  For- 
syth  would  take  "Daphne"  to  order  them;  he 
again  appraised  the  eyes,  the  smile,  and  the  alert 
little  form.  If  only  the  imitative  faculty  lay 
behind  that  pretty  brow  she  would  serve  his  pur- 
pose well! 

At  his  request  she  laid  the  hat  aside.  He  put 
a  typewritten  part  in  her  hands,  and  lolled  on  a 
couch,  with  an  act  of  the  comedy  on  his  knees. 

"Now  we'll  take  the  first  scene  between 
Daphne  and  her  father,"  he  said.  "I  told  you 
in  Brighton,  didn't  I,  how  she  feels  towards  her 
father?  The  child's  tremendously  fond  of  him, 
and  there's  a  touch  of  the  protective  instinct  in 
her  love.  You  know — that  inborn  maternal  in- 
stinct that  little  girls  have  for  their  dolls !  Well, 
Daphne  is  to  show  a  touch  of  the  maternal  when 
phe  first  suspects  that  her  father  is  in  trouble." 

Peggy  nodded,  not  feeling  at  all  sure,  how- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

ever,  what  little  girls  and  their  dolls  had  to  do 
with  it. 

She  and  Forsyth  read  the  scene  aloud,  and  the 
dramatist  did  not  once  interrupt  her.  This 
seemed  flattering,  and  at  the  end  she  looked 
round  for  a  compliment.  His  face  was  placid, 
but  she  could  discern  no  approval  in  it.  Her 
heart  sank,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  she  had  read 
the  part  much  less  intelligently  than  he  had  ex- 
pected. He  was  telling  himself  that  he  had 
hoped  for  too  much  at  the  first  attempt,  though 
actually  he  had  hoped  for  very  little.  Well, 
never  mind!  he  was  going  to  mould  her  into  the 
character,  train  her  in  every  inflexion,  every 
movement,  every  flash  of  facial  play.  Being 
tactful  and  understanding  human  nature,  espe- 
cially human  nature  as  it  was  to  be  found  in  the 
wings,  he  did  not  at  this  point  say  anything  to 
detract  from  the  girl's  self-esteem;  he  allowed 
the  events  of  the  afternoon  to  do  it  by  degrees. 

For  three  hours  he  laboured  with  Peggy,  la- 
boured incessantly,  disguising  the  obstinacy  of  a 
man  who  knows  what  he  wants,  and  means  to 
have  it,  under  a  demeanour  of  unruffled  patience. 

But  the  interruptions  were  countless  now,  and 
she  was  inclined  to  resent  them. 

"You  promised  to  put  yourself  in  my  hands," 
he  reminded  her  once  gently. 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    243 

"Yes — I  know,  I  am!"  she  declared,  redden- 
ing. "But — but  aren't  I  to  show  any  individ- 
uality, then?" 

For  an  instant  the  professional  jargon  of  the 
pupil  tempted  the  master  to  an  ironic  reply.  But 
he  only  said,  "Well!  perhaps  my  own  idea  might 
be  bettered — show  me  what  you  want  to  do  there, 
speak  the  lines  your  own  way!" 

Peggy  hadn't  a  notion  of  what  she  wanted  to 
do ;  she  only  knew  that  she  was  finding  this  little 
man  with  a  big  head  very  exacting  and  weari- 
some. So  she  re-read  the  lines  and  emphasised 
words  at  random,  and  introduced  a  laugh,  which 
was  musical,  but  preposterous  in  a  pathetic  pas- 
sage. 

"You  laugh  very  prettily,"  said  Forsyth; 
"but,  you  know,  you're  supposed  to  be  on  the 
verge  of  tears  there.  And  I  don't  care  for  your 
emphasis,  'I  wonder  if  he  sees  how  unhappy  I 
am  sometimes/  You've  already  said  you're  un- 
happy. It  should  be  'I  wonder  if  he  sees  how 
unhappy  I  am  sometimes.' ' 

Peggy  spoke  the  words  again,  but  missed  the 
note  of  pathos. 

"Too  cheerful,"  said  Forsyth.  "Remember 

what  she's  thinking  about.  And Well, 

never  mind  that  now!"  His  brain  buzzed. 

Peggy  sighed  and  persevered. 


B44    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

*'Nbt  quite,"  he  murmured,  and  delivered  the 
lines  several  times,  very  slowly,  for  her  bene- 
fit. .  .  .  "Not  quite,"  he  said  again  and  again; 
"now  once  more!  Listen  to  me  and  say  it  just 
as  I  do.  ...  No,  that's  a  little  too  whiny!  .  .  . 
No,  now  we're  getting  a  little  too  coy !  .  .  .  Oh, 
we  shall  manage  it,  don't  be  afraid!  Take  your 
time,  there's  nothing  to  be  discouraged  about, 
'I  wonder  if  he  sees  how  unhappy  I  am  some- 
times/ " 

She  echoed  him  at  last;  but  later,  when  they 
returned  to  the  page,  the  inflexion  had  been  lost, 
and  the  lesson  had  to  be  given  to  her  again. 

And  then  she  kept  saying  "interes/ing." 

There  were  many  such  stumbling-blocks;  so 
many  that  if  any  layman  had  been  present  he 
would  have  marvelled  that  the  playwright  could 
retain  confidence  in  his  choice.  And  more  than 
once  Forsyth  did  waver.  He  wavered,  but  he 
increased  his  efforts  as  he  questioned  forlornly 
where  a  likelier  "Daphne"  was  to  be  found.  And, 
after  all,  the  girl  had  grit!  When  she  had  re- 
covered from  the  first  shock  of  disillusion,  he 
could  see  that  she  was  plucky.  While  he  feigned 
to  be  unaware  that  she  was  feeling  humiliated,  he 
was  conscious  that  a  smarting  vanity  made  her 
task  more  difficult. 

They  read  no  further  than  the  first  scene,  but 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

they  read  it  so  often  that  at  last  she  knew  some 
of  the  lines  by  heart.  This  led  him  to  play  the 
scene  with  her,  and  now,  more  than  ever,  she 
appreciated  the  qualities  of  her  coach.  Not  only 
could  he  show  her  how  lines  should  be  uttered, 
he  could  show  her  what  to  do  while  she  said  them 
— and  how  to  convey  a  tense  moment  without 
saying  anything  at  all.  He  could  do  more  than 
explain,  he  could  demonstrate. 

"No,  not  like  that,"  he  would  say;  "like  this!" 
A.  little  man  with  a  big  head  simulating  a  young 
girl — and  simulating  so  cleverly  that  he  was  il- 
lustrative and  not  ridiculous !  She  was  being  in- 
structed by  a  dramatist  who,  as  he  wTrote,  heard 
every  tone  and  saw  every  gesture  of  his  charac- 
ters; she  was  being  drilled  in  her  calling  by  a 
dramatist  who  had  been  an  actor  and  could  in- 
dicate in  action  what  he  meant.  He  made  no 
more  appeals  to  intelligence,  he  talked  no  longer 
of  the  instinct  of  the  girl-child  for  the  doll;  he 
recognised  that  she  was  the  doll,  and  that  it  was 
his  business  to  make  her  dance.  Every  finger 
that  she  was  to  lift  he  showed  her ;  every  step  that 
she  was  to  stir.  Sometimes  he  would  cry  to  her 
not  to  stir  at  all.  "It  isn't  wanted,"  he  would 
say,  the  big  head  to  one  side  like  a  photogra- 
pher's; or,  "No,  no,  your  face  can  do  all  that's 
necessary  there.  Like  this!  .  .  .  My  face  isn't 


pretty,  but  I  want  yours  to  do  that."  And  pres- 
ently it  would  be,  "Now  smile,  with  your  hands 
behind  you — tip  your  chin  a  little  bit.  There 
you  are !  No ;  I  want  the  smile  more  arch.  .  .  . 
The  chin  a  leetle  more  up.  .  .  .  That's  it.  Now, 
do  that  again,  while  you're  speaking  the  line.  .  .  . 
Capital!  very  fetching  and  natural."  The  third 
time  that  he  pulled  the  wires  she  began  to  think 
complacently  that  it  was  natural  to  her. 

The  sunshine  had  faded  while  they  worked. 

"We've  done  enough  for  to-day."  He 
pushed  her  gently  into  a  capacious  chair.  "You've 
been  a  very  good  girl."  Her  type  was  familiar 
to  him,  and  he  gave  her  the  sugar  that  she  craved. 
"A  very  clever  girl!  Now  lean  back  and  curl 
up.  Don't  think  any  more ;  we're  going  to  have 
tea." 

The  quietest  servant  that  she  had  ever  seen 
appeared  writh  tea,  and  tea  was  served  as  smartly 
as  if  the  study  had  been  a  "set"  at  a  West  End 
theatre. 

"Cream?"  asked  the  eminent  host;  and  she 
nearly  said,  "Rather!" 

She  began  to  examine  things,  things  that  she 
had  been  too  nervous,  or  too  busy,  to  examine 
before.  Forsyth  did  himself  well,  she  reflected. 
What  a  lovely  chair!  And  that — what-was-its- 
name? — all  over  mother-of-pearl  and  gimcracks! 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    247 

Funny  not  to  have  a  looking-glass  on  the  mantel- 
piece, though.  Rather  dull,  the  room,  but  good ; 
oh  yes,  everything  in  it  was  decidedly  good.  Ex- 
cept, perhaps,  the  pictures:  the  pictures  didn't 
seem  to  have  been  finished.  Her  gaze  reverted 
to  the  celebrity.  His  attention  was  concen- 
trated upon  a  basket  of  petits-fours,  and  petu- 
lantly he  exclaimed,  "Whenever  we  have  these 
little  ding-dongs  for  tea,  there's  every  sort  but 
the  one  I  like  I"  Just  as  Chris  might  have  grum- 
bled, she  thought.  It  thrilled  her  with  a  sense 
of  importance  to  realise  that  she  had  heard  W.  B» 
Forsyth  grumble  about  his  cakes. 

He  arranged  with  her  that  she  should  come 
again  on  the  morrow,  and  every  day,  and  he  sent 
her  back  to  Islington  in  a  taxi-cab,  saying  that 
she  looked  tired.  She  looked,  in  truth,  a  great 
deal  less  tired  than  he — and  with  reason. 

"Well" — Betsy  Harper  had  grown  more 
genial — "how  did  the  reading  go?  Was  he  sat- 
isfied with  you?" 

"Sent  me  home  in  a  taxi  I"  boasted  Peggy,  sup- 
pressing much  that  was  unessential  to  the  narra- 
tive. 


CHAPTER  IV 

DURING  the  weeks  that  lay  between  his  pre- 
liminary lesson  to  her  and  the  date  on  which  the 
general  rehearsals  of  the  piece  began,  she  had 
been  taught  more  of  the  technique  of  her  calling 
than  she  had  acquired  unaided  in  ten  preceding 
years.  She  had  not  been  metamorphosed  into  a 
clever  actress — it  was  as  far  beyond  his  power  to 
instil  a  gift  for  histrionics  as  to  communicate  a 
talent  for  dramatic  authorship — but  what  he  had 
done,  with  experience  and  fortitude  and  the 
sweat  of  his  brow,  was  to  compel  her  to  mimic  him 
as  "Daphne"  with  sufficient  fidelity  for  him  to 
foresee  her  giving  a  pleasing  performance  by  the 
time  the  general  rehearsals  finished. 

It  had  been  a  lofty  moment  when  she  tripped 
past  the  doorkeeper  of  a  West  End  theatre  with 
a  part  in  her  hand  for  the  first  time ;  but,  on  the 
whole,  the  rehearsals  at  the  Piccadilly  proved 
much  less  gratifying  than  she  had  expected. 
During  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  friendless  wait- 
ing, while  she  recognised  the  popular  Miss 
Marshall,  and  saw  her  greet  Carrie  Warne,  and 

248 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    24-9 

watched  Miss  Warne  chatting  intimately  with 
Miss  Eley  Sashbourne — while  she  stood  envying 
their  clothes,  and  their  air  of  being  at  ease  here — 
she  had  assumed  that  she  would  be  admitted  to 
the  distinguished  groups  as  soon  as  the  promi- 
nence of  the  part  that  she  was  to  play  had  been 
revealed  to  them.  But  she  was  not  admitted  and 
made  to  feel  at  home.  The  flash  of  pride  at 
finding  herself  on  a  stage  with  women  who  bore 
names  that  had  been  familiar  to  her  all  her  life, 
names  that  were  of  immense  importance  to  her 
mind,  had  expired  when  she  realised  that  the 
prominence  of  her  part  was  resented.  Miss 
Marshall  and  Miss  Warne,  who  had  grown  mid- 
dle-aged without  attaining  to  "leading  business" 
in  London,  owed  their  hard-won  reputations  to 
their  abilities;  and  even  Miss  Eley  Sashbourne, 
who  had  had  rich  parents  to  entertain  useful  peo- 
ple and  buy  a  position  for  her,  had  been  satisfied 
to  make  her  West  End  debut  in  a  part  compara- 
tively small.  No  cordial  welcome  was  extended 
to  an  unknown  girl  thrust  into  the  position  of 
leading  lady.  Some  of  the  men  offered  cheery 
comments  from  time  to  time,  but  the  women  re- 
mained formal.  When  she  blundered  in  a  scene, 
the  cold  condescension  of  the  "Pardon  me,  I  think 
you  should  be  on  my  left,  my  dear!"  intimated 
unmistakably  that  she  should  be  in  the  prov- 


250    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

inces;  and  when  it  happened  that  Forsyth  or 
Onslow  corrected  her  with  a  touch  of  temper, 
she  knew  that  her  discomfiture  was  heing  re- 
garded in  the  wings  with  satirical  smiles. 

And  as  the  date  fixed  for  the  production  drew 
near,  both  the  author  and  the  actor-manager's 
severity  increased.  So  far  from  being  uplifted 
now,  she  thought  with  tender  regret  of  the  happy- 
go-lucky  companies  that  she  had  left.  Never 
had  she  imagined  that  so  much  fuss  could  be 
made  about  trifles ;  and  if  it  had  not  been  too  late 
she  would  have  refused  to  fulfil  the  engagement 
and  hidden  herself  from  her  mother's  wrath.  She 
hated  everybody — hated  the  women  for  holding 
aloof  from  her,  hated  Forsyth  for  burdening  her 
with  the  responsibility,  hated  Onslow  for  "get- 
ting her  so  cheap" !  She  entered  the  theatre  pale 
with  apprehension ;  and  since  no  maternal  sympa- 
thy was  to  be  looked  for,  she  made  a  confidant 
of  Tatham,  and  found  him,  at  this  period,  newly 
and  strangely  companionable. 

There  was  one  occasion  on  which  she  broke 
down.  The  rehearsal  had  been  called  for  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  all  had  gone  smoothly 
until  she  spoke  a  line  which,  by  reason  of  the  daily 
reproofs  that  it  entailed,  had  become  a  haunting 
terror  to  her.  It  occurred  in  a  scene  with  On- 
slow  in  the  fourth  act,  and  her  heart  thumped  as 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    251 

she  approached  it.  She  had  repeated  it  to  her- 
self fifty  times  during  the  afternoon  and  felt  con- 
fident that  at  last  the  desired  inflexions  had  been 
mastered ;  but  now  misgivings  made  her  feel  sick 
again. 

Onslow,  wearing  an  expression  of  fatherly 
solicitude,  sat  by  a  table,  his  forehead  resting  on 
a  forefinger.  She  took  the  three  timid  steps  be- 
hind him  that  she  had  been  drilled  to  take,  and 
as  her  voice  smote  the  silence,  it  seemed  to  her 
inxiety  that  the  theatre  held  its  breath  to  listen. 
She  said: 

'  'I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you  what  I  want  to 
say — I  never  thought  that  I  should  want  to  say 
it.'  " 

Onslow's  back  was  declamatory — she  knew 
that  she  had  failed  again  before  he  raised  a  de- 
spairing arm  towards  the  roof.  The  gesture  re- 
lieved him,  his  verbal  remonstrance  was  not  vio- 
lent. He  inquired  with  depth  of  feeling,  and  of 
nobody  in  particular,  "Isn't  it  marvellous?" 

Of  her  he  inquired,  "Are  we  never  going  to 
have  it  right?" 

He  rose,  and  dominated  the  stage — she  had  no 
longer  a  "father,"  she  had  only  an  actor-manager 
struggling  to  control  his  fury. 

"Will  you  speak  it  like  this,  Miss  Harper, 
please?  'I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you.' ' 


858    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

'  'I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you/  "  she  said, 
swallowing  convulsively. 

"No!"    His  chest  heaved  under  the  restrain? 
that  he  was  putting  upon  expletives.     "Not, 
'How  to  tell  you,'  but  'How  to  tell  you/  " 
'  'How  to  tell  you/  "  she  quavered. 

He  plunged  his  hands  in  his  trousers  pockets 
and  took  a  little  composing  turn  in  front  of  the 
footlights. 

"Try  again,  my  child!  Now,  now,  now,  don't 
upset  yourself;  just  echo  me,  that's  all  I  want 
you  to  do."  The  suavity  of  his  "all"!  "Listen I 
'How  to  tell  you/  " 

Desperation  stumbled  within  a  semi-tone  of  it. 

"That's  better,"  he  said  encouragingly. 
"Now  take  it  a  little  further:  'I  don't  know  hoT^ 
to  tell  you  what  I  want  to  say/  ' 

'  'I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you  what  I  want 
to  say/  "  she  wailed.  A  tear  was  trickling  down 
her  nose. 

"It's  the  most  extraordinary  thing  I  ever  came 
across  in  my  life!"  gasped  Onslow  to  Forsyth, 
who  was  suffering  in  the  stalls.  "We've  had 
three  weeks  of  it  1"  And  in  the  wings  Miss  Mar- 
shall remarked  under  her  breath  to  Miss  Warne, 
"If  he  engages  girls  as  leading  ladies  simply  be- 
cause they're  young 1"  And,  under  her 

breath,  Miss  Warne  answered  Miss  Marshall, 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    253 

"When  7  went  into  the  profession,  she'd  have 
been  playing  the  servant !"  Peggy  did  not  dare 
to  turn  her  head  and  didn't  catch  their  words, 
but  she  could  hear  their  whispers,  and  imagined 
their  eyebrows  and  their  shoulders.  With  all 
her  sobbing  soul  she  yearned  to  be  back  on  tour  in 
No  Child  to  Call  Her  "Mother." 

It  was  nearly  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  be- 
fore the  ordeal  reached  its  climax. 

"Bring  me  a  chair!"  called  Onslow,  declining 
to  perceive  that  a  chair  was  within  arm's  length 
of  him.  "I'll  have  it  spoken  the  way  I  want  it, 
if  we  all  stop  in  the  theatre  till  breakfast-time  1'* 
Then  leisurely  he  sat  down  and  folded  his  arms; 
and  while  the  company  stood  around  disconsolate 
and  thought  of  their  cab  fares  to  the  suburbs,  the 
actor-manager  continued  to  reiterate,  "  'I  don't 
know  how  to  tell  you  what  I  want  to  say — I 
never  thought  that  I  should  want  to  say  it,'  "  and, 
blind  with  tears,  Peggy  continued  to  recite  the 
line  after  him,  without  catching  the  right  inflex- 
ions once. 

Finally  he  leapt  out  of  the  chair  with  more 
volatility  than  he  had  manifested  since  the  days 
when  he  played  in  farce. 

"Eleven  o'clock  to-morrow!"  he  flung  at  the 
prompter. 

And,  "I  wish  I  was  dead  and  buried!"  she  SUIT- 


254    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

died  to  Tatham,  who  was  waiting  outside  to  take 
her  home. 

He  was  as  sorry  for  her  as  if  she  had  been  his 
child — she  seemed  to  him  a  little  futile  child,  as 
she  panted  and  sniffed  beside  him  on  the  deserted 
pavements  till  a  hansom  crawled  into  view.  He 
reminded  her  that  her  misery  wouldn't  last — that 
even  if  she  never  spoke  the  line  in  the  way  desired 
of  her,  the  heavens  wouldn't  fall;  he  dwelt,  as 
optimistically  as  his  thoughts  permitted,  on  the 
fact  that  "Daphne"  was  the  last  part  she  was  to 
play  and  that  soon  she  would  be  his  wife.  She 
came  nearer  to  loving  him  than  she  had  ever  done 
before,  as  he  tried  to  console  her  during  the  long 
drive.  But  her  sobs  persisted,  and  while  she 
clung  to  him,  she  repeated  again  and  again,  "I 
wish  I  was  dead  and  buried,  I  do!  I  give  you 
my  word,  I  wish  I  was  dead  and  buried  I" 


CHAPTER  V 

ALTHOUGH  Forsyth  was  one  of  the  most  ac- 
complished of  living  dramatists,  and  an  intellec- 
tual man,  and  his  play  represented  some  years 
of  thought  and  twelve  months  of  strenuous  work, 
it  scored  only  a  semi-success.  The  Press  ob- 
jected to  it  on  the  grounds  of  "false  psychology," 
and  the  public,  who  were  not  in  the  least  con- 
cerned with  the  truth  of  its  psychology,  objected 
to  it  because  they  found  it  dull.  His  play  fell 
flat.  But  his  marionette  was  exalted.  The  no- 
tices were  an  ovation  to  "Miss  Peggy  Harper." 
Her  "acute  sensibility  and  intelligence,"  the 
"spontaneity  of  her  talent,"  and  the  "brilliant 
promise  of  her  surprising  youth"  were  common- 
places in  panegyrics  which  sparkled  with  such 
phrases  as  "sweetly  delicious  with  the  winsome- 
ness  of  English  maidenhood,"  and  a  "career  to 
be  conspicuous  in  the  annals  of  the  Stage." 

"Gawd!"  gasped  Peggy,  reading  one  of  the 
most  laudatory  of  the  criticisms  in  bed  the  day 
after  the  piece  was  produced,  and  wondering 
what  a  lot  of  the  words  meant.  She  could  not 

255 


256    TH]E  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

determine  whether  she  was  being  extolled  for  her 
"artistry"  in  having  done  something  not  clearly 
expressed,  or  for  her  "artistry"  in  avoiding  it; 
hut  no  matter  which  way  it  might  he,  it  was  evi- 
dent that  she  was  a  unique  young  creature,  and 
she  felt  breathless  and  a  little  light-headed.  She 
did  not  know  whether  she  wanted  to  sing,  or 
dance,  or  cry,  but  she  knew  that  she  didn't  want 
her  bacon,  and  that  the  world  had  altered.  There 
was  an  unfamiliar  and  emotional  brightness  in 
the  sunshine  that  streamed  into  the  untidy  room, 
and  never  before  had  she  seen  her  mother  sitting 
at  the  edge  of  the  bed,  beaming  down  at  her  like 
this.  She  kicked  her  heels  hysterically  on  the 
mattress. 

"Here,  I  say!  run  out  and  buy  some  more 
papers,  mother,"  she  commanded.  "This  isn't 
half  all  right,  what?  What  price  the  other 
women,  now,  them  and  their  side?  They  must 
be  feeling  a  bit  silly  this  morning,  ain't  they? 
Look  here — two  lines  at  the  beginning  I've  got, 
and  .  .  .  six,  seven,  eight,  further  down.  All 
about  me!  .  .  .  And  Eley  Sashbourne's  only  got 
two  1"  She  counted  again,  and  shrieked  with  tri- 
umph. "Seven  words  for  the  'great'  Marshall, 
and  they  don't  weigh  much.  .  .  .  Now  let's  see 
Warne's  little  bit.  .  .  .  Go  on,  get  some  more 
papers,  mother,  blow  the  expense  1" 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER     257 

Tatham's  message  of  pleasure  and  congratula- 
tion delighted  her;  she  felt  very  tender  towards 
him  as  she  slipped  it  under  the  pillow.  He  had 
been  among  the  audience,  in  an  undesirable  seat, 
and  congratulated  her  at  supper,  but  until  he 
opened  his  newspaper  at  breakfast  he  had  had 
no  idea  that  he  had  witnessed  a  success  so  note- 
worthy and  brilliant.  He  telegraphed  lengthily 
to  her  on  his  way  to  the  City;  and  being  unable 
to  reach  her  before  she  left  for  the  theatre,  he 
waited  for  her  again  at  the  stage-door  after  the 
curtain  fell. 

She  joined  him  radiant  and  gabbling.  Both 
had  read  many  criticisms  in  the  meanwhile.  She 
kept  inquiring  if  he  had  seen  what  this,  that,  and 
the  other  paper  said  of  her.  She  had  scarcely  a 
suspicion  that  praise  in  one  quarter  was  more 
important  than  in  another ;  she  did  not  know  the 
names  of  any  of  the  critics,  and  estimated  the 
value  of  approval  by  its  superlatives.  A  daily 
for  which  Pritchard  wrote  the  first-night  no- 
tices, had  contained  little  more  about  her  than 
"A  very  pleasing  performance  was  given  by  a 
newcomer  to  London,  Miss  Peggy  Harper,"  and 
fche  said  contemptuously  that  she  "didn't  think 
much  of  that."  She  "didn't  think  much"  of  two 
or  three  temperate  opinions  that  would  have 
raised  her  to  a  pinnacle  of  rapture  a  day  or  two 


258    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

before.  Vanity  may  attain  no  larger  dimen- 
sions in  the  atmosphere  of  the  footlights  than 
elsewhere,  but  nowhere  else  does  it  grow  so  plen- 
tifully, or  so  fast.  The  contrast  between  her 
celebrity  this  evening — for  "celebrity"  she  al- 
ready had — and  her  whimpering  despair  a  few 
evenings  ago  flared  to  the  man  as  they  walked 
towards  a  cab. 

"Who'd  have  thought  it?"  he  exclaimed — "do 
you  remember  our  coming  along  here  the  other 
night?" 

He  was  surprised  to  see,  by  her  shrug,  that  the 
reminder  was  unwelcome.  "Oh,  that  didn't 
amount  to  much!"  she  said  shortly.  And  some- 
thing in  his  tone  had  displeased  her — as  the  glim- 
mer of  amusement  in  Onslow's  eyes  had  dis- 
pleased her  when  he  felicitated  her  on  her 
"laurels";  and  as  an  undercurrent  of  facetious- 
ness  in  her  mother's  jollity  had  displeased  her  all 
the  afternoon. 

On  the  morrow,  Forsyth's  "Well,  my  child, 
you  didn't  put  up  with  it  all  for  nothing,  eh?" 
displeased  her  in  the  same  way.  She  reflected 
that  it  was  "a  funny  thing,"  by  which  she  meant 
"an  annoying  one,"  that  "people"  seemed  to  give 
her  very  little  credit  for  the  success  that  she  had 
made ;  she  was  told  how  lucky  she  had  been,  and 
how  grateful  she  ought  to  be,  but  nobody  that  she 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    259 

met  said  how  clever  she  was!  At  the  show,  of 
course,  the  women  were  hating  her  for  cutting 
them  out ;  and  poor  old  Forsyth  must  be  feeling 
a  bit  jealous — the  critics  had  thought  a  heap 
more  of  her  than  of  himl  .  But  even  in  Chris's 
congratulations  there  had  been  something  wrong, 
something — well,  there  had  been  something  miss- 
ing, a  touch  of  the Of  course  one  could 

never  say  such  a  thing,  but  really  and  truly,  a 
touch  of  the  respect  that  her  triumph  demanded! 
Naturally,  she  didn't  want  him  to  feel  small  when 
he  talked  to  her,  but  it  was  funny  that  he  could 
remain  so  free-and-easy,  all  the  same!  .  .  . 

It  crossed  her  mind  that  perhaps  he  felt  more 
deference  than  he  was  disposed  to  let  her  see. 
She  reflected  that  he  was  "ever  so  much"  older 
than  she,  and  a  failure — and  look  what  Beaver 
had  said  about  his  things!  .  .  .  Yes,  poor  old 
Chris  must  be  feeling  a  bit  out  of  it,  too.  Rather 
sickening  for  poor  old  mother,  as  well,  come  to 
think  of  it !  Oh,  well,  she'd  never  let  on  that  she 
was  aware  of  having  walked  over  both  their 
heads,  she  wasn't  that  sort.  She'd  never  swank, 
like  some  people.  Nobody  could  call  it 
"swank"  the  way  she  was  behaving  to  Warne, 
and  Marshall,  and  Eley  Sashbourne  now  that 
they  couldn't  help  being  civil  to  her;  getting  a 
bit  of  her  own  back,  that  was  all!  Still  it  was 


260    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HAHPEB 

pretty  rotten  of  poor  old  Chris  and  poor  old 
mother  to  pretend  they  didn't  know  she  had  risen 
far  above  them;  they  didn't  do  themselves  any 
good  by  that ! 

It  was  rather  less  than  a  week  after  her  debul 
at  the  Piccadilly,  that  when  Forsyth  stopped  to 
speak  to  her  in  the  Haymarket  she  replied  to 
him  in  the  stuffy  tone  of  the  highly  consequential, 
and  took  leave  of  him  with  a  nod  familiar  and 
abrupt.  About  the  same  time,  her  dresser  re- 
marked to  the  young  woman  behind  the  pit  bar 
that  the  "notices  in  the  pipers  had  given  Miss 
'Arper  such  a  swelled  head  that  she  couldn't  get 
it  through  her  skirt.'* 

She  was  "eighteen"  still.  London  was  in- 
formed that  she  was  "only  eighteen"  every  time 
that  a  photograph  of  her  was  reproduced  in  a  pic- 
ture journal — and  her  photographs  were  nearly 
as  popular  with  the  picture  journals  as  if  she 
had  been  a  musical-comedy  idol.  More  than  half 
of  the  audience  were  drawn  to  the  Piccadilly  by 
their  curiosity  to  witness  the  performance  of  "the 
winsome  English  maiden"  whose  natural  talent 
had  swept  her  to  theatrical  fame  direct  from  the 
"class-room  of  a  fashionable  boarding-school" — • 
variously  stated  to  have  been  in  Hanover,  Paris, 
and  Eastbourne.  A  paragraph,  under  "Promi- 
nent Persons,"  described  Onslow's  discovery  of 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    261 

her — "As  the  favourite  of  the  school  finished  her 
recitation,  the  famous  actor-manager  turned  to 
his  companion,  saying,  'That  child  is  destined  to 
be  one  of  the  greatest  actresses  of  our  time.' ' 
And  the  Editor  of  Mother  And  Girls  begged  for 
the  privilege  of  including  her  views  among 
"other  notable  Englishwomen's"  upon  the  Fe- 
male Suffrage  movement.  Not  being  quite  sure 
what  it  was,  and  appreciating  the  value  of  an 
additional  advertisement,  she  was  harassed,  un- 
til her  mother  came  to  her  aid.  "Miss  Peggy 
Harper,  the  gifted  young  actress  at  the  Picca- 
dilly Theatre,"  wrote :  "My  time  is  far  too  much 
occupied  by  my  work  for  me  to  trouble  my  head 
about  such  matters."  And  readers  could  divine 
the  gifted  young  actress's  weary  smile  as  she 
thought  of  the  women  whose  less  momentous  pur- 
suits allowed  them  leisure  for  such  frivolities. 

The  little  mummer  who  had  once  averred  that 
"acting  was  silly,"  and  pronounced  her  profes- 
sion "a  rotten  business,"  soon  afterwards  began 
to  refer  to  her  "work"  and  her  "art"  in  conver- 
sation too.  Her  conversation  was  decorated 
with  all  the  phrases  which  had  been  impressive 
to  her  upon  the  lips  of  others — phrases  by  which 
she,  in  her  own  turn,  sought  to  be  impressive  at 
home. 

Invariably  now  she  referred  to  Forsyth  as 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"W.  B.,"  and  she  spoke  of  several  distinguished 
persons  to  whom  she  had  been  presented  for  a 
moment  behind  the  scenes,  or  whom  she  had  never 
met  at  all,  by  their  Christian  names.  To  Tatham 
the  affectations  that  broke  out  over  her  nature 
like  a  rash  were  occasionally  so  exasperating  that 
he  marvelled  at  her  mother's  blandness.  But 
Betsy  Harper,  for  so  long  as  she  could  keep  so- 
ber, or  became  intoxicated  amiably,  was  minded 
to  avoid  dissension  with  a  profitable  daughter. 

A  simple  incident  which  afforded  the  girl  con- 
siderable pleasure  occurred  on  a  Wednesday. 
There  being  no  Wednesday  matinee  at  the  Pic- 
cadilly, she  was  always  free  on  that  day  to  at- 
tend a  matinee  elsewhere,  and  highly  agreeable 
it  was  to  her  to  saunter  into  the  stalls  when  the 
house  was  filled  and  note  that  there  were  ardent 
playgoers  present  who  recognised  her.  She  un- 
failingly turned  an  abstracted  gaze  towards  the 
pit  before  she  sat  down.  One  Wednesday,  as 
she  and  her  mother  entered  the  foyer  of  the 
Sceptre,  her  glance  alighted  on  young  Nelson, 
waiting  among  a  little  group  of  obscure  profes- 
sionals till  he  had  an  opportunity  for  asking  at 
the  box-office  if  the  acting  manager  could  "oblige 
him  with  a  seat."  The  boy  observed  her  with  a 
start,  and  sweeping  off  his  hat,  regarded  her  dif- 
fidently. When  she  paused,  it  was  plain  that  he 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    263 

was  delighted  to  be  seen  greeting  the  new  star  in 
the  foyer  of  a  London  theatre. 

"Why,  Miss  Harper!"  he  exclaimed,  for  those 
close  at  hand  to  hear,  "how  d'ye  do?" 

She  was  gratified  both  by  his  exaggerated  bow 
and  his  respectful  "Miss  Harper" — it  pro- 
claimed instantly  his  appreciation  of  the  fact  that 
they  were  now  in  disparate  spheres.  She  ten- 
dered limp  finger-tips — the  fingers  that  had 
stroked  his  face  when  he  called  her  "Peggums." 

"Ah,  Nelson!"  she  said,  with  gracious  languor; 
"going  in  to  see  the  show?" 

"If  I  can  get  a  seat,"  murmured  young  Nel- 
son, shooting  his  linen,  and  posing  with  his  cane. 
"I  suppose  you've  got  yours?" 

"Oh  yes,"  she  said  stuffily,  "I  'phoned  that  I'd 
be  in."  She  had  written  a  request  for  tickets  in 
the  ordinary  way,  and  enclosed  a  stamped  and 
addressed  envelope  for  the  reply,  but  she  had 
heard  Onslow  say,  in  speaking  of  some  other 
performance,  "I  'phoned  that  I'd  be  in,"  and  had 
liked  the  lordly  sound  of  it. 

"You're  no  end  of  a  swell,  eh?"  He  eyed  her 
admiringly.  "My  best  congrats!  I  was  in 
front  last  week." 

"Ah,  it's  not  really  very  much  of  a  part — one 
does  what  one  can  with  it!"  She  owed  this 
flower  of  speech  to  Miss  Eley  Sashbourne. 


284    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

ffl  thought  it  was  a  ripping  part,"  said  young 
Nelson.  "I  saw  your  photo  in  the  Sketch  last 
week — a  whole  page  to  yourself,  what!  A  jollj 
fine  photo  it  isl" 

"It?"  «he  said  vaguely.  "Which?  I  forget 
.  .  .  Sketch?  I  don't  remember  which  one  they 
had.  There  have  heen  so  many  of  me;  they're 
all  over  London."  She  simpered,  with  a  pucker 
on  her  brow.  "It's  getting  rather  dull  for  me 
to  look  at  the  papers  now.  I  can't  pick  one  up 
without  seeing  myself — I'm  getting  so  bored  by 
mel"  .  .  .  She  acquired  a  weary,  confidential 
note,  her  eyebrows  climbing  higher  still.  "You 
know,  it's  funny  how  soon  one  gets  used  to  it  all. 
I  mean  to  say,  one  always  supposed  that  fame 
must  be  so  awfully  jolly,  but,  'pon  my  word, 
there's  nothing  in  it — rather  a  nuisance  in  some 
ways.  Wherever  I  go,  I'm  stared  at.  ... 
Nelly  was  saying  the  same  thing  only  the  other 
night." 

Young  Nelson  smiled  uncomfortably.  She 
was  talking  down  to  him  from  such  an  eminence 
that  he  was  tempted  to  improvise  an  ear-trum- 
pet, and  beg  her  to  shout.  Later,  at  the  Crown, 
Peckham,  he  asserted  that  he  had  done  so  and 
"scored  off  her  like  billy  ohl"  Actually,  he  only 
faltered  "'Nelly'?"  with  interrogation;  whereat 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    263 

she  said,  "Yes,  Ellen  Terry.  Well,  I  must  skipl 
Glad  to  seen  you,"  and  forgot  to  shake  hands. 

She  wished,  ridiculously,  that  "fame,"  in  truth, 
were  tedious  to  her;  she  had  wished  it  often — 
of  her  silly  wish  had  been  born  her  unconvincing 
lie.  The  ruffled  rose-leaf  in  her  sensational  bou- 
quet was  the  zest  with  which  she  inhaled  it,  for 
it  reminded  her  how  unused  she  was  to  popular- 
ity. It  seemed  to  her  that  the  one  thing  needful 
to  set  the  seal  upon  her  success  was,  that  it 
shouldn't  enrapture  her  so  much;  it  seemed  to 
her  that  it  must  be  grand  and  glorious  to  be  so 
habituated  to  adulation  that  it  had  lost  its  thrill, 
that  it  left  one  listless,  cold,  and  sated.  She 
longed  to  be  blase. 

She  invited  the  pit  patrons  to  a  view  of  her, 
full  face,  as  usual,  before  settling  herself  in  her 
seat;  and  even  while  she  yielded  to  the  tempta- 
tion, was  regretful — not  of  the  fatuity  of  her  con- 
ceit, but  of  the  gusto  of  her  youth. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ANOTHER  of  the  phrases  that  commended 
themselves  to  her  taste  was,  "That  sort  of  thing," 
as  a  label  for  the  class  of  dramatic  entertainment 
with  which  she  had  hitherto  been  associated. 
"That  sort  of  thing"  was  eloquent  of  immeasur- 
able space  between  the  speaker  and  the  dispar- 
aged depths.  She  was  aware,  with  discomfiture, 
that  her  future  husband  was,  conspicuously,  a 
creator  of  "That  sort  of  thing."  When,  by  a 
passing  reference,  his  melodrama  was  scoffed  at 
in  the  dressing-room  one  night — "London  Inside 
Out,  and  that  sort  of  thing!" — she  did  not  say, 
"I'm  engaged  to  Mr.  Tatham."  She  went  on 
pencilling  her  scanty  eyebrows  and  simulated  un- 
concern. 

Of  course,  she  meant  to  marry  "poor  old 
Chris" — that  she  should  ever  marry  anybody  else 
after  all  these  )7ears,  was  unthinkable — but,  "For 
mother's  sake,"  she  suggested  to  him  that  the 
wedding  should  be  postponed  until  Christmas. 
She  explained,  with  a  kiss,  that  "for  her  to  clear 
out  and  get  married  the  moment  her  luck  had 

266 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    267 

turned  would  be  awfully  rough  on  poor  old 
mother."  And,  for  another  thing,  the  run  of 
Forsyth's  piece  was  coming  to  an  untimely  end, 
and  it  was  more  than  likely  that  in  August  she 
would  be  up  to  her  eyes  in  the  rehearsals  of  a 
new  part.  "It  would  be  a  fearful  muddle  to  get 
married  at  the  same  time." 

There  was  no  longer  any  allusion  between  her 
and  Tatham  to  her  leaving  the  stage.  She  was 
now  in  a  position  to  demand  a  large  salary,  and 
considering  the  dimensions  of  his  own,  he  could 
not  dwell  on  his  wish  that  she  should  sacrifice  the 
prospect.  Already  it  was  manifest  to  him  that 
her  mother's  prediction  was  to  be  fulfilled — he 
would  be  the  "husband  of  Miss  Peggy  Harper." 
His  assent  to  the  proposal  that  he  should  pos- 
sess his  soul  in  patience  until  Christmas,  was 
forthcoming  with  such  readiness  that,  if  the  girl's 
new  egotism  had  been  less  prodigious,  she  would 
have  been  wounded  in  the  perception  that  she  was 
undesired. 

They  had  discussed  the  matter  at  the  window 
in  Liverpool  Road.  Beneath  them,  Islingtoni- 
ans  passed  stiffly  in  their  Sunday  black,  and  in 
the  bedroom  Mrs.  Harper  was  taking  a  siesta. 
Peggy's  spirits  had  risen;  she  was  feeling  much 
tenderer  towards  "poor  old  Chris"  now  that  she 
was  not  to  marry  him  so  soon.  She  forsook  her 


268    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

chair  for  his  knee,  and  thought  what  a  "good  fel- 
low" he  was,  and  that  it  was  an  "awful  pity  that 
he  wasn't  cleverer."  As  often  as  she  laid  her 
artificialities  aside  and  was  once  more  the  out- 
spoken little  gamine  that  he  had  known,  it  was 
easier  for  him  to  fondle  her.  A  tepid  affection, 
stimulated  by  gratitude  for  the  unexpected 
respite  that  she  had  afforded  him,  was  animating 
conversation  gaily,  when  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
sudden  change  of  tone: 

"Oh,  bother !  I  forgot !  Naomi  Knight's  com- 
ing in  this  afternoon.  I  do  think  that  every 
duffer  I've  ever  met  in  the  profession  has  wor- 
ried me  to  find  an  engagement  for  her  since  I've 
been  at  the  Pic!" 

Mentally  the  girl  on  his  knee  was  all  at  once  a 
thousand  leagues  from  him. 

"You  used  to  be  such  pals  with  Naomi!"  he 
remonstrated. 

"Oh,  my  dear  boy!"  She  had  her  stuffy  stop 
out  again.  "I  like  Naomi  very  well,  but  how 
can  I  take  the  responsibility  of  recommending  a 
woman  like  that?  She's  not  an  artist." 

"She's  not  inspired,"  admitted  Tatham,  "but 
not  many  of  them  are.  What  is  it  she  wants  you 
to  do?" 

"Oh,  the  piece '11  be  going  out  in  the  autumn; 
she  wants  me  to  get  her  into  the  tour,  she  wants 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    269 

me  to  speak  to  Onslow  for  her;  she  wrote  that 
she'd  'be  thankful  for  anything,  even  for  half  a 
dozen  lines/  I  believe  she's  in  Queer  Street. 

.  .  .  It's  all  very  well "  She  wrinkled  her 

forehead  and  shrugged  one  shoulder.  "In  my 
position,  one  can't  do  these  things!  I  mean  to 
say,  how  can  I  advise  Onslow,  or  W.  B.,  to  take 
Naomi  Knight?" 

"I  should  have  thought  she  could  have  played 
a  small  part  quite  as  well  as  anybody  else  they're 
likely  to  get  for  the  money,"  he  said  drily.  "She 
has  had  plenty  of  experience." 

"Not  in  pieces  like  this;  she  hasn't  the  finish; 
they'll  want  it  played  in  the  same  tone  on  the 
road  as  it's  played  at  the  Pic.  Her  manner's 
not  West  End  enough.  I  mean  to  say,  Naomi's 
all  right  in  the  No.  2  towns,  and  that  sort  of  thing, 
but  she  hasn't  got  the  style  for  first-class  com- 
panies. .  .  .  It's  a  very  difficult  thing  to  say  to 
her,  of  course,  but" — her  critical  head  was  shaken 
ponderously — "it's  astonishing  she  doesn't  see  it 
for  herself.  'Pon  my  word,  it's  extraordinary, 
the  kind  of  people  that  go  into  the  profession  I 
the  more  one  sees  of  it,  the  more  extraordinary 
ft  is!" 

When  Naomi  Knight  arrived,  a  sadder  and  a 
shabbier  figure  than  when  he  had  last  met  her 
— after  the  greetings  had  been  exchanged  and 


270    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

the  feigned  cheerfulness  of  the  first  few  minutes 
was  past — it  was  painful  to  Tatham  to  feel  how 
sensitive  the  woman  was  to  the  girl's  professional 
distance  from  her  now.  She  had  no  hesitation 
in  unveiling  her  necessities  before  him,  and  as 
she  said  deprecatingly,  conscious  of  the  suppli- 
ant's embarrassment,  how  "grateful"  she  would 
be  if  Peggy  would  "put  in  a  word  for  her,"  his 
thoughts  flashed  back  to  the  lodging  over  the 
dairy  and  refreshment  rooms,  where  they  used  to 
call  each  other  "ducky,"  and  romp. 

She  was  a  mediocre  actress,  but  she  loved  her 
calling — loved  it  with  her  heart  and  her  brain 
— and  she  was  no  longer  young.  When  she  ex- 
plained that  unless  it  yielded  a  pittance  to  her 
shortly,  she  would  have  to  give  it  up  and  "go  in 
for  something  else,"  her  recognition  of  the  fact 
that  her  life  had  been  a  failure  was  not  without 
pathos.  She  spoke  vaguely  of  "typewriting," 
or  of  "dressmaking."  Though  it  appeared  to 
him  that  it  would  be  far  wiser  for  her  to  quit  the 
stage  than  to  persist  in  the  struggle  to  sustain  a 
hand-to-mouth  existence  on  it,  she  shrank  from 
the  final  relinquishment  of  hope  so  pitiably,  that 
the  arrogance  of  the  girl's  attitude  towards  her 
jarred  him  as  inhuman. 

Peggy  had  not  the  faintest  idea  that  she  was 
being  inhuman,  nothing  was  further  from  her 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    271 

thoughts  than  to  be  or  to  sound  unkind ;  she  was 
merely  actuated  by  a  desire  to  parade  her  posi- 
tion, lest  the  other  might  fail  to  apprehend  its 
splendours  to  the  full.  But  every  note  in  her 
voice  was  offensive,  and  the  girl  who  had  once 
boasted  that  she  "never  forgot  a  pal"  talked  to 
the  woman  as  she  might  have  talked  to  a  child. 

"Well,  as  you  ask  my  opinion,"  she  said,  al- 
though it  was  not  her  opinion  that  had  been  asked, 
but  her  help,  "I'd  strongly  advise  you  to  go  in 
for  anything  you  can — typewriting,  dressmak- 
ing, whatever  it  is !  I  mean  to  say,  supposing  I 
did  go  to  Onslow  and  say,  'Look  here,  you've  got 
to  do  this  for  me,  she's  a  friend  of  mine — on  the 
rocks — and  she'll  be  all  right  in  the  part/  sup- 
posing I  did  do  it,  what'd  it  amount  to?  What's 
the  use  of  just  one  engagement?  It  wouldn't 
be  a  long  one  either — I  mean  to  say,  the  only  busi- 
ness the  piece'll  do'll  be  in  the  No.  1  towns;  it 
won't  play  to  the  gas  in  the  places  where  they're 
used  to  rough-and-tumble  melodrama  and  that 
sort  of  thing — it'll  be  quite  over  their  heads — it's 
much  too  clever  and  zoological.  I  see  a  very 
short  tour  for  it,  a  very  short  tour.  I  told  W.  B. 
so  frankly  the  other  day.  Well,  in  two  or  three 
months  you'd  be  on  your  uppers  again !  I  mean 

to  say,  one  can't — er — I  couldn't  keep  on 

I  tell  you  honestly,  my  dear  girl,  I  don't  see  any 


£72    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

future  for  you  in  the  profession!  To  make  any- 
thing like  a  position  to-day  is  most  enormously 
difficult.  You  haven't  a  notion  what  hundreds 
of  women  there  are — clever  women,  too,  in  their 
way — who'll  never  do  any  good.'* 

"Haven't  I?"  muttered  Naomi. 

"I  tell  you  what  it  is,  to  come  to  the  front  on 
the  stage  to-day,  a  girl  has  got  to  be  something 
<juite  out  of  the  common.  They  want  a  lot! 
there's  no  doubt  about  it.  There's  so  much  ordi- 
nary talent  knocking  around  that  for  a  girl  to 
come  to  the  front  to-day  she's  got  to  be  different 
to  anybody  else,  she's  got  to  be  able  to " 

"She  wasn't  talking  about  'coming  to  the 
front'!"  interrupted  Tatham  hotly.  "She'd  be 
satisfied  with  a  couple  of  pounds  a  week  to  go  on 
with;  wouldn't  you,  Miss  Knight?" 

"I'd  take  twenty-five  shillings,"  said  the 
woman. 

Peggy's  gesture  was  intolerant.  "And  that's 
just  where  it  is!  the  profession's  chock-a-block 
with  actresses  who're  good  enough  for  twenty- 
five  shillings  a  week.  They're  the  most  difficult 
people  in  the  world  to  do  anything  for !" 

"I  see  your  point,"  said  Naomi  bitterly.  "I'm 
sorry  I  bothered  you.  It  isn't  always  the  gen- 
iuses that  get  to  the  front,  though,"  she  added, 


£THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    278 

turning  to  Tatham;  "a  good  many  rotters  get 
there — and  a  good  many  clever  girls  are  too  poor 
to  afford  to  die  in  a  sanatorium.  You  saw  Elsie 
L/ane  was  dead?" 

He  had  not  seen  it;  he  gazed  at  her,  startled. 

"It's  in  The  Referee.  Of  course,  she'd  been 
ill  for  years — consumption.  I  heard  a  little 
while  ago  she  was  starving;  she  tried  as  long  as 
she  could  to  hide  how  ill  she  was,  but  they  say  she 
looked  so  dreadful  towards  the  end  that  she 
couldn't  get  an  engagement  at  any  money." 

"Is  that  so?"  he  murmured.  The  poignancy 
of  it  pierced  him  no  less  keenly  because  the  trag- 
edy was  told  in  the  hard,  careless  tones  of  a 
woman  quivering  under  her  own  humiliation. 
He  remembered  his  last  glimpse  of  Elsie  Lane, 
and  cursed  himself  that  he  hadn't  spoken  to  her. 
As  vivid  as  his  view  of  it  in  the  Strand  was  his 
memory  of  the  sick  girl's  painted  face — painted, 
as  he  understood  now,  to  mask  the  ravages  of 
disease  and  enable  her  to  earn  her  bread  in  the 
theatre.  Farther  back  he  looked,  into  a  town 
whose  name  he  had  forgotten,  and  walked  beside 
her  through  white,  empty  streets,  and  stood, 
wishing  her  "luck,"  on  a  doorstep. 

"There's  a  mention  of  me  again  in  The  Refl" 
said  Peggy,  displaying  a  copy  of  the  paper  Ian- 


274    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

guidly.  She  pointed  to  a  line  in  the  Answers  to 
Correspondents.  "Seen  this,  Naomi?  'Student 
of  the  Drama: — Miss  Peggy  Harper's  favourite 
flower  is  the  lily  of  the  valley.' ' 


CHAPTER  VII 

WHEN  Theodosia  told  Tatham  that  she  would 
like  to  retain  the  copy  of  Shams  for  a  little  while 
longer,  she  had  said  it  with  an  audacious  project 
in  her  mind;  and  what  passed  between  them  sub- 
sequently, modified,  but  did  not  annul,  the  plan. 
She  no  longer  dreamed  of  the  delight  of  asking 
him  to  come  to  see  her  and  proclaiming  that  a 
distinguished  dramatic  critic  thought  highly  of 
his  comedy,  but  she  did  continue  to  think  of  beg- 
ging a  distinguished  critic  to  read  it,  and  to  scrib- 
ble an  encouraging  line  on  the  subject  if  he  found 
the  comedy  as  meritorious  as  she  expected  him 
to  do. 

Pritchard  did  not  go  to  The  Aspect  office  very 
often,  and  she  had  not  been  presented  to  him 
until  she  had  been  on  the  staff  for  two  or  three 
months.  Since  then,  she  had  seen  him  several 
times.  More  than  once  he  had  sat  on  a  table  and 
talked  to  her — it  was  occasionally  difficult  to  as- 
sociate his  diatribes  on  the  paper  with  his  sim- 
plicity on  the  table — and  she  did  not  think  the 
amiable  authority  would  refuse  her  petition  if  she 

275 


276    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

showed  herself  conscious  of  asking  a  very  great 
favour. 

An  opportunity  for  asking  it  was  slow  to  ar- 
rive. But  he  did  not  refuse.  Indeed,  he  con- 
sented at  once,  because  he  was  under  the  impres- 
sion that  the  play  of  her  preamble  had  been 
written  by  herself.  When  she  haltingly  ex- 
plained that  it  was  by  the  author  of  London  In- 
side Out,  however,  she  became  distressfully  aware 
of  a  light  of  amusement  in  Mr.  Pritchard's  eyes. 

"You  aren't  going  to  be  prejudiced  against  it, 
Mr.  Pritchard?"  she  pleaded.  "This  is  the  man's 
real  work — the  kind  of  work  he  wants  to  do  and 
always  has  done,  excepting  in  that  one  wretched 
case.  If  I  had  had  the  courage,  I'd  have 
scratched  his  name  off  it  before  I  showed  it  to 

you.  Do  read  it "  She  blundered  to  a 

breakdown. 

"'Fairly'?"  He  peered  at  her,  with  a  wry 
smile. 

"I  wasn't  going  to  say  'fairly/  "  she  stam- 
mered, "I  was  going  to  say  'attentively.' ' 

"I'll  read  it  quite  attentively  enough  to  form 
an  opinion,"  he  promised  her.  "That's  all  right. 
But  it  won't  advance  Mr. — er — Tatham  in  the 
slightest  degree,  you  know,  if  I  like  it." 

An  undesigned  inflexion  apprised  her  that  few 
things  were  more  improbable  to  his  mind  than 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    277 

that  he  would  like  it.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
his  interest  had  abated  so  much  that  in  the  course 
of  half  an  hour  the  roll  that  he  was  carrying  was 
an  object  of  aversion  to  him. 

Many  weeks  passed  before  she  heard  his  ver- 
dict, and  her  expectations  had  subsided  consid- 
erably in  the  meanwhile. 

"Well,  I've  read  your  friend's  play,  Miss 
Moore,"  he  announced  hesitatingly.  "I  can't 
say  I  think  he  has  treated  his  subject  in  the  hap- 
piest way." 

So  much  for  her  hope!    She  faltered,  "Oh?" 

"I  think  it  was  bad  judgment  to  make  his  hero 
a  writing  man.  Why  a  writing  man?  Hasn't 
Mr.  Tatham  heard  of  politicians,  or  inventors, 
or  manufacturers,  or  engineers,  or  men  in  any 
other  walk  of  life  outside  the  arts?  His  purpose 
in  Shams  is  to  present  an  interesting  study  of  a 
man's  struggles  to  get  on — and  he  puts  the  man 
in  a  profession  that  doesn't  interest  the  public  in 
the  least.  Short-sighted!  To  choose  an  author 
as  the  protagonist  of  an  English  play — or  of  an 
English  novel — is  to  handicap  the  thing  from 
the  word  'go';  no  writer  who  knew  his  business 
would  do  it.  What  do  you  suppose  the  public 
care  about  somebody's  difficulties  in  placing  his 
manuscripts?  If  a  dramatist  or  a  novelist  aims 
at  awakening  interest  in  the  study  of  a  career,  it's 


278    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

folly  for  him  to  choose  an  artistic  career — we 
aren't  in  France.  In  France  it's  done  again  and 
again,  but  in  the  land  of  good  art  and  bad  smells 
the  public's  tastes  are  infinitely  better — and  in- 
finitely worse — than  ours.  Of  course  the  French 
talk  a  very  great  deal  more  about  les  economies 
than  about  les  arts,  but  for  all  that,  above  the 
level  of  apaches,  Frenchmen  who  don't  take  any 
interest  whatever  in  art  and  literature  are  even 
scarcer  than  Englishmen  who  do.  Mr.  Tat- 
ham's  a  very  acute  observer,  I'm  surprised  he 
doesn't  recognise  the  limitations  of  the  audience 
he's  writing  for." 

"Oh,  you  do  think  he  shows  observation?"  she 
said  eagerly.  "You  don't  think  his  work  is — 
you  find  something  to  say  for  it,  then?" 

"I  think  very  highly  of  his  work,"  replied 
Pritchard,  in  a  key  of  protest,  as  if  he  had  said 
so  already.  "I  think  he  lacks  one  very  desirable 
quality — when  I  say  'desirable'  I  mean  desirable 
for  long  runs — he  lacks  the  so-called  optimism 
that's  always  popular;  he  shows  afflictions  to  be 
afflictions,  instead  of  representing  them  as  ulti- 
mate boons.  If  a  nurse  girl  went  mad  and  cut 
the  baby's  throat  in  a  play  of  Mr.  Tatham's,  we 
shouldn't  be  told  at  the  end  that  the  baby's  par- 
ents, and  the  nurse  girl's  were  filled  with  the 
peace  of  perceiving  that  all  things  worked  mys- 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    279 

teriously  for  some  great  and  illuminative  bless- 
ing. That's  a  mistake,  commercially.  No  bland 
lie  can  be  too  preposterous  to  win  wide  approval. 
Say  black  is  rose  colour.  Millions  will  smack 
their  lips  over  the  statement,  and  call  the  man 
who  questions  it  a  'pessimist.'  The  national  defi- 
nition of  a  'pessimist'  is  'One  who  faces  unwel- 
come facts.'  'Pessimist'  and  'optimist'  are  the 
two  most  misused  words  in  the  English  language. 
And,  of  course,  Shams  hasn't  any  titled  person- 
ages in  it.  If  Mr.  Tatham  always  writes  about 
the  middle  classes  I'm  afraid  he'll  find  that  an- 
other commercial  drawback." 

"You  are,"  faltered  the  girl,  with  more  pride 
and  happiness  than  she  dared  to  show,  "taking 
Mr.  Tatham  very  seriously,  aren't  you?" 

"Certainly  I'm  taking  him  very  seriously.  I'm 
bound  to  say  I  don't  foresee  his  making  a  fortune 
in  the  theatre — though  even  that's  largely  a  mat- 
ter of  luck — but  I  think  he  ought  to  make  a  big 
reputation.  I  want  to  send  Shams  to  Onslow — 
I  was  talking  to  him  about  it  the  other  day  and 
he  said  he'd  like  to  consider  it.'* 

"Oh!"  she  gasped.  "But  Mr.  Onslow  refused 
it  as  'unsuitable'  months  agol'* 

"That's  irrelevant,"  said  Pritchard;  "this  time 
he's  going  to  read  it.  Of  course  he  mayn't  see 
any  money  in  it.  But  if  Onslow  doesn't  feel  in- 


280    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

clined  to  risk  a  production  of  it,  it  ought  to  be 
shown  to  somebody  else — I'd  like  to  see  Shams 
get  a  chance  somewhere.  And  anyhow,"  he 
added,  "I  think  that  he'll  be  quite  sure  to  read 
anything  that  Mr.  Tatham  sends  to  him  in  fu- 
ture." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BUT  as  Theodosia  felt  that  Tatham  had  made 
it  impossible  for  her  to  correspond  with  him,  and 
as  it  was  equally  out  of  the  question  for  her  to 
suggest  to  Mr.  Pritchard  that  he  should  do  more 
than  he  had  generously  done,  the  author  of 
Shams  remained  unaware  that  his  prospects  had 
an  upward  tendency.  In  this,  his  position  dif- 
fered widely  from  that  of  Peggy,  who  was  con- 
scious of  being  more  valuable  every  day. 

Her  anticipations  had  been  realised.  Soon 
after  she  left  the  Piccadilly  she  had  been  offered 
an  engagement  at  the  Waterloo — and  had  asked 
for  a  contract  at  fifty  pounds  a  week,  and  got  it. 
She  was  not  performing  in  the  new  part  with  so 
much  seeming  intelligence  as  she  had  performed 
in  the  part  of  "Daphne,"  because  the  instruction 
afforded  to  her  at  the  Waterloo,  though  patient 
and  painstaking,  had  lacked  the  quality  of  in- 
spiration; but  she  reproduced  Forsyth's  "fetch- 
ing and  natural"  smile  with  a  tilted  chin  and  her 
hands  behind  her  back,  and  playgoers,  having  ac- 
cepted her  as  delightful,  continued  to  admire 

281 


28*    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

her.  The  management  found  it  financially 
sound  to  put  ten  five-pound  notes  in  an  envelope 
every  week  for  a  girl  who,  troublesome  though 
she  was  to  teach,  had  the  adherence  of  the 
Press  and  public.  (Subsequent  managements 
were  equally  complacent  when  she  acquired  the 
nerve  to  demand  seventy-five  pounds,  and  a  hun- 
dred.) In  the  occupation  which  is  given  the 
most  publicity — the  calling  in  which  an  artist  like 
Elsie  Lane  had  suffered  in  want  and  died  in 
squalor — this  puppet  had  despotically  "ar- 
rived." 

And  already  the  blare  of  the  trumpets  was 
duller  to  her  ears — already  she  regarded  homage 
as  her  birthright.  She  no  longer  enjoyed  ec- 
statically, and  wished,  like  a  precocious  child,  that 
her  delight  were  less.  That  childish  wish  had 
been  the  final  impulse  of  a  moribund  simplicity. 
Keenly  now  she  was  alive  to  nothing  but  the  im- 
mensity of  her  consequence  in  the  social  scheme. 
Diligently  as  she  dwelt  on  every  word  of  a  com- 
plimentary criticism,  she  read  the  compliment, 
not  with  gratitude,  but  with  a  sense  of  her  in- 
comparable superiority  to  the  scribes  who  praised 
her — if  she  knew  nothing  else  about  them,  she 
knew  that  they  were  very  poorly  paid.  Intellect 
impressed  her  not  at  all.  Fame  itself,  other  than 
histrionic  fame,  meant  nothing  to  her.  By  this 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER     283 

time  the  eminent  men  who  had  had  the  curiosity 
to  approach  her  were  fairly  numerous,  and  their 
celebrity  had  not  abashed  her  in  the  least — she 
too  could  boast  celebrity;  and  as  to  the  value  of 
their  achievements,  she  was  too  ignorant  to  be 
aware  of  it.  She  chatted  to  an  R.A.  and  a  Cab- 
inet Minister  with  an  unrestraint  tinged  by  con- 
descension. To  an  illustrious  man  of  letters, 
whose  name  she  had  never  heard  before,  she  was 
rather  rude. 

It  was  not  the  girl's  fault :  she  had  been  a  good- 
natured,  unpretentious  little  Cockney  with  a 
warm  heart.  It  was  the  fault  of  the  Cabinet 
Minister,  the  R.A.,  and  the  man  of  letters,  of 
their  wives  and  their  daughters,  and  of  a  Press 
that  pandered  to  an  idolatry  which  it  privately 
condemned :  it  was  the  fault,  in  fine,  of  the  age  in 
which  she  lived.  Truly  she  believed — and  Lon- 
don had  conspired  to  persuade  her — that  the 
world  of  the  theatre  was  the  most  important  un- 
der Heaven ;  truly  she  believed  that  she  shone  ef- 
fulgent in  it  by  right  of  genius. 

She  could  not  escape  the  reflection  that  when 
she  married  a  clerk  she  would  be  committing  an 
act  of  sensational  self-sacrifice. 

Alternately  she  was  proud  to  think  how  gen- 
erous she  was,  and  surprised  that  poor  old  Chris 
didn't  see  for  himself  that  it  "wouldn't  do."  To 


284    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

be  sure,  he  had  intimated  something  of  the  sort 
when  she  told  him  that  her  salary  was  to  be  fifty 
pounds  a  week,  but  he  had  allowed  her  to  talk 
him  over.  In  looking  back,  she  was  inclined  to 
blame  him  for  that,  forgetting  the  nature  of  the 
protests  she  had  made.  If  she  were  a  man,  she 
didn't  think  she'd  find  it  good  enough  1  But  of 
course,  Chris  was  weak.  If  he  hadn't  been  weak, 
would  he  have  stuck  in  a  clerkship  all  these  years? 
Since  he  couldn't  write  plays,  he  should  have  done 
something  else.  What  course  had  been  open  to 
him  she  did  not  profess  to  decide,  but  he  should 
have  buckled  to!  A  concomitant  of  her  inordi- 
nate self-esteem  was,  naturally,  a  lofty  intoler- 
ance of  failure. 

She  developed  with  rapidity  an  intolerance  of 
many  things — of  restaurants  that  were  not  quite 
the  smartest,  and  of  any  champagne  that  wasn't 
the  "only  one  worth  drinking,"  though,  of  a  truth, 
she  could  discover  no  difference  between  that  and 
others,  excepting  under  the  prices  on  the  wine 
list.  Presents  and  invitations  lost  their  novelty, 
and  the  chit  who  had  felt  important  at  the  sight 
of  a  Clapham  waiter  opening  her  bottle  of  beer, 
was  now  airily  familiar  with  what  she  called  the 
"meenew"  of  the  Savoy.  Not  long  since  intro- 
duced to  her  first  liqueur,  she  asserted  listlessly 
that  she  "always  took  green  chartrooce."  She 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    285 

developed  the  habit  of  being  late  for  appoint- 
ments— when  she  contrived  to  remember  them  at 
all.  Twice  she  had  arranged  with  Tatham  to 
meet  her  at  the  stage  door,  and  dismissed  him, 
after  he  had  waited  for  twenty-five  minutes  in  a 
draught,  with  the  hurried  explanation  that  "some 
people  had  asked  her  to  supper." 

But  when,  raging,  he  broke  the  engagement 
off,  her  better  self,  or  her  vanity,  was  wounded, 
and  she  did  not  approve  his  independence  after 
all.  Having  cried  and  sulked  for  a  week,  she 
sent  a  little  penitent  letter  to  him,  which  made 
him  feel  that  he  was  a  brute  for  returning  to  her 
unwillingly. 

It  was  about  a  fortnight  after  the  reconcilia- 
tion that  one  day,  when  he  went  to  her  in  Keppel 
Street — Liverpool  Road  had  been  abandoned — 
he  found  her  very  natural  and  meek.  She  was 
nibbling  a  pencil  forlornly,  and  struggling  to 
write  a  description  of  her  histrionic  methods. 

"Oh,  I  say!"  she  exclaimed,  "I  am  glad  you've 
come  in — I  was  going  to  drop  you  a  postcard. 
I  don't  know  how  to  do  this  beastly  thing." 

He  learnt  that  she  had  been  petitioned  to  con- 
tribute to  a  series  of  articles  that  was  appearing 
in  The  Beholder,  under  the  heading,  "How  I 
Study  a  Part."  In  the  present  emergency  her 
mother  had  proved  useless,  and  the  sight  of  a 


28Q    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

copy  of  the  paper  in  which  two  columns  of  twad- 
dle had  been  written,  or  signed,  by  Miss,  Clytie 
Pateward  had  increased  her  eagerness  to  figure 
in  the  series  herself. 

"Do  you  see?"  she  said.  *Td  have  my  photo 
in  the  middle,  and  my  name  printed  three  times. 
It'd  be  an  awful  pity  to  miss  the  ad!  You  might 
think  of  something  for  me,  Chris,  Have  a  cig, 
and  tell  me  what  to  say." 

"What  have  you  said?"  he  asked.  "How  have 
you  begun?" 

"I've  only  done  a  little  bit.  'I  study  a  part  by 
first  learning  the  lines,  and  then  I  work  them  up.' 
That's  all  I've  written  so  far." 

"That  isn't  much,  is  it?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  any  more  to  say  about  it," 
she  said  fretfully.  "I'm  sick  of  the  job — I've 
been  sitting  here  for  an  hour  I  .  ,  .  I  can't  make 
out  how  Pateward's  written  such  a  lot.  I've  read 
it  twice,  but  I  can't  say  the  same  things  that  she 
does.  I  don't  know  what  they've  sent  the  rotten 
thing  to  me  for — it's  no  help  to  me.  Lot  of  flap, 
[just  to  show  how  clever  she  is  1" 

"That's  what  you've  got  to  do!" 

"Well,  I  know  all  about  that,  but  I'm  an 
actress,  I'm  not  an  authoress.  .  .  .  You  might 
cut  in  and  be  useful,"  she  coaxed. 

"Of  course  I  will,"  he  said  readily.    "I'm  no 


.THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    287 

good  at  it  either,  but  I'll  do  all  I  can.  Tell  me 
how  you  do  study  a  part.  Then  we'll  make  some- 
thing of  it  between  us;  we'll  try  to  dress  it  up 
and  make  it  sound  pretty." 

She  regarded  him  open-mouthed,  and  her  gaze 
wandered.  For  a  cold,  disquieting  moment  she 
realised  that  the  way  she  "studied"  a  part  was  to 
do  in  it  exactly  as  she  was  told.  For  a  moment 
only.  "There  were  some  things  too  what-d'ye- 
jcall-it  to  be  expressed!" 

"Oh,  well,"  she  faltered,  "I  don't  know  just 
what  I  do.  Look  what  my  notices  say!" 

He  nodded.  He  understood  her  better  than 
her  critics  did. 

"I  suppose,"  he  sighed,  "that  you  might  say 
that  when  you  get  a  new  part  you  lie  awake  all 
night  thinking  about  it?" 

"Oh  yes,"  she  agreed;  "that's  it!"  She  licked 
the  pencil.  '  'I  study  a  part  by  first  learning  the 
lines,  and  then  I  work  them  up,  and  then  I  lie 
awake  all  night—  No,  that  doesn't  sound 

right!  Oh,  I  say,  do  come  on!  It's  giving  me 
the  hump." 

"I  should  begin  differently.  I  should  say — 
I  should  say  that  when  a  part  is  first  handed 
to  you,  you  feel  .  .  .  well,  you  feel  awfully 
shy- 

"Shy?" 


288    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"Yes,  'shy.'  You  feel  awfully  shy,  as  if  it 
were  a  stranger  that  you'd  got  to  make  friends 
with." 

"Do  you  think  I  ought  to  feel  'shy'?"  she 
demurred. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  said  impatiently;  "it's  going  to 
show  how  clever  you  are  directly.  You  feel  aw- 
fully shy,  as  if  it  were  a  stranger  that  you  had  to 
make  friends  with;  and  then,  by  degrees,  you 
forget  that  it's  a  part — you  seem  to  be  speaking 
your  own  thoughts.  In  fact,  you're  not  quite 
sure  on  the  first  night  whether  you're  Peggy 
Harper,  or  the  girl  in  the  play.  .  .  .  They'll  lap 
that  up." 

"Yes,  that's  the  ticket!"  she  said.  She  scrib- 
bled for  a  few  seconds,  and  contemplated  a 
tangled  sentence  hopelessly.  "But  how — where 
— which  way  do  I  start?  Oh!"  She  flung  the 
pencil  in  a  tantrum  across  the  room.  "Let  it 
rip !  .  .  .  'Tis  a  shame,  'tis  a  shame !  You  might 
do  it  for  me — can't  you  do  it  for  me,  Chris?  Do 
it  at  home  for  me,  there's  a  dear!  Do  it  for  me 
at  home,  and  bring  it  to  me  on  Sunday.  Do  it 
for  me  by  Sunday,  and  then  you  can  come  and 
read  me  what  you've  done.  Won't  you?  I'd 
like  to  be  in  The  Beholder.  Do  write  it  at  home 
for  me,  Chris,  there's  a  good  chap !" 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    289 

It  was  an  easy  matter  to  offer  a  suggestion, 
but  a  more  difficult  one  to  produce  an  article — 
which  was  the  reason  why  very  little  of  the  non- 
sense in  the  "How  I  Study  a  Part"  series  was 
written  by  the  actors  and  actresses  themselves. 
But  by  dint  of  taking  a  good  deal  of  pains,  since 
he  was  not  a  journalist,  Tatham  succeeded  in 
producing  that  article  "By  Miss  Peggy  Harper" 
which  shed  pleasure  in  so  many  English  homes. 
He  even  took  considerable  interest  in  accomplish- 
ing it,  although  he  was  writing  with  his  tongue 
in  his  cheek.  Perhaps  less  for  Peggy's  sake  than 
to  humour  his  own  taste,  he  sought  to  make  this 
contribution  the  best  that  the  series  would  con- 
tain. He  toned  down  statements  which  on  sec- 
ond thoughts  appeared  conceited;  he  invented 
emotions  for  her,  and  then  deleted  them.  His 
efforts  to  steer  a  middle  course  between  the 
egotistical  and  the  colourless  delayed  him  vastly? 

But  when  he  had  finished  fabricating  her  in- 
genuous confidences  to  the  public,  she  sounded  a 
little  darling — her  sweet  simplicity  was  as  de- 
lightful as  her  brilliant  gifts. 

It  was  not  without  a  glow  of  satisfaction  that 
he  bore  his  work  to  her  on  Sunday.  A  postcard 
urging  him  to  come  to  middle-day  dinner,  and 
to  "bring  that  thing  with  him,"  had  reached  him 


290    THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

the  previous  afternoon,  and  he  had  replied  by 
telegram  that  he  wouldn't  fail. 

A  taxi-cab  was  waiting  before  the  house,  and 
the  sitting-room  was  empty  when  he  entered  it. 
But  he  heard  her  voice  and  her  mother's  behind 
the  folding  doors.  Peggy  came  in  swiftly.  She 
had  on  a  hat,  and  was  plainly  pressed  for  time. 
Her  white  blouse,  fastened  at  the  throat  with  a 
brooch  depicting  a  couple  of  tennis  rackets,  was 
sprinkled  with  various  bits  of  cheap  jewellery 
which  her  means  had  permitted  her  recently  to 
acquire.  Under  the  rackets,  a  wish-bone,  a  tur- 
quoise horse-shoe,  and  a  bedizened  safety-pin 
were  followed  by  a  pendant  proclaiming  that  her 
Christian  name  began  with  a  P.  Westward,  a 
watch  hung.  To  the  North-east,  a  silver  insect, 
with  amethyst  wings,  would  have  been  solitary 
but  for  a  "Chaste  design,  set  with  fine  quality 
pearls,  at  <£l  10s."  A  yard  or  two  of  chain  en- 
circling her  neck  became  a  loop  line  to  a  true- 
lover's  knot  of  red  enamel  before  its  terminus  in 
a  bunch  of  charms  at  her  waist. 

"Oh,  I  say,  I'm  awfully  sorry,  but  I've  got  to 
go  out,"  she  said  carelessly.  "Mother's  not  go- 
ing, you'll  stop  just  the  same."  Her  glance  fell 
on  the  article.  "Is  that  it?  I  haven't  got  time 
to  look  at  it  now — I  must  bolt." 

By  the  whitening  of  his  face  it  was  revealed  to 


POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

her  that  he  was  very  angry.  To  justify  herself, 
she  explained,  with  a  quick  frown: 

"I'm  going  to  lunch  with  Dicker,  the  airman." 

"Dicker  be  damned,"  said  Tatham  quietly. 
"Where  you're  concerned,  I  don't  play  second 
fiddle  to  Dicker,  or  anyone  else.  I'm  tired  of  it. 
.  .  .  I  thought  we  had  settled  all  this  once  and 
for  all?" 

"Yes — well,  I've  changed  my  mind,"  she  said. 

"I  haven't  changed  mine,"  said  he. 

"Think  I'm  going  to  let  everything  slide  to 
please  you?"  Her  voice  was  high.  "I've  got 
something  else  to  think  about,  I  give  you  my 
word!  What  next?  One'd  think  you  were  I 
don't  know  what!" 

Something,  the  protrusion  of  a  surly  mouth, 
the  timbre  of  the  coarse  defiance,  jerked  his  re- 
membrance to  an  afternoon  when  her  mother  had 
reviled  him. 

"I'm  the  man  you're  engaged  to  marry.  And 
while  we  are  engaged,  you've  got  to  count  me 
'first.'  If  that  isn't  good  enough,  the  engage- 
ment isn't  good  enough." 

'  'Good  enough' !"  she  cried  derisively. 
"Crumbs!  don't  make  me  laugh,  I've  got  a 
cracked  lip." 

After  a  moment  Tatham  said,  trembling: 


892     THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

"You'd  better  make  haste — your  taxi's  out- 
fiide,  ticking  away  twopences." 

Behind  the  folding  doors,  which  had  been  im- 
perfectly closed,  Betsjr  Harper  sat  rocking  with 
pleasure  on  a  trunk, 


CHAPTER 


IN  the  sunlight  of  a  morning  four  years  later 
Christopher  Tatham  was  absorbed  by  the  task  of 
transferring  lobelia  from  the  pots  in  which  it  had 
arrived  to  the  soil  of  a  circular  flower-bed.  And 
the  earth  smelt  good  to  him.  It  was  one  of  those 
fair,  allusive  mornings  when  the  garden  of  a 
semi-detached  villa  is  not  one  rod,  pole,  or  perch 
smaller  than  the  imagination  of  the  tenant,  and 
the  labourer  was  feeling  that  his  limited  lawn 
extended  as  far  as  the  heart  of  Nature.  It  was 
one  of  those  mornings  when  the  suburban  house- 
holder bustles  for  his  train  with  a  wistful  glance 
at  the  verdure  behind  his  gate;  and  the  author, 
whose  breakfast-room  window  had  afforded  a 
view  of  neighbours  bustling  for  their  trains, 
paused  in  his  occupation  of  planting  lobelia,  to 
realise  anew  that  he  need  never  go  to  the  City  any 
more. 

The  thought  was  wonderfully  arresting,  and 
the  flower-pots  lay  neglected. 

"Slacking?"  laughed  Theodosia.  She  herself 
was  very  indolent,  in  a  basket  chair  under  a 

293 


294    3?HJE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER 

laburnum  tree,  with  an  illustrated  paper  on  her 
lap.  "There  are  some  sugar-plums  for  you  in 
this  week's  number,"  she  said;  "and  there's  a  pic- 
ture of  a  lady  you  used  to  know." 

"Theo,  something's  happened — I  need  never 
go  to  the  City  any  more  1" 

"That's  lovely!"  she  smiled.  "When  did  you 
find  it  out — to-day,  or  three  years  ago?" 

"Just  this  minute — all  over  again!" 

Her  gaze  deepened.    He  loitered  closer  to  her. 

"I  believe  you'd  rather  have  been  a  gardener 
than  anything  else,"  she  told  him. 

"Oh,  writing's  not  bad  sometimes.  .  .  »  !Foi* 
don't  care  for  it  as  you  did?" 

She  reflected.  "I've  so  much  else  to  care  for 
now,"  she  explained  happily. 

"I  wonder  if  he'll  write?"  said  Tatham.  "I 
don't  want  him  to." 

"I  don't  know  what  I  want  Baby  to  be." 

"Not  a  writing-man.  .  .  .  We  shall  soon  have 
to  leave  off  calling  him  'Baby,'  shan't  we?" 

"Oh,  there's  time  enough  I"  she  cooed. 

"I  shouldn't  like  the  Bar  for  him,"  declared 
the  father,  after  a  pause,  remembering  his  own 
father. 

"Nor  the  Church,"  said  she,  thinking  of  hers. 
...  "I  don't  know  why  you  should  mind  his 
writing,  though;  you've  nothing  to  complain  of 


THE  POSITION  OF  PEGGY  HARPER    S95 

now — unless  you're  eager  for  thousands  a  year?" 

"I  don't  know  that  thousands  a  year  are  very 
necessary,"  he  murmured.  "You  and  he,  that's 
the  kind  of  thing  that  really  matters  to  a  man. 
I've  everything  I  want.  .  .  .  Show  me  the  sugar- 
plums in  the  paper — I'm  always  grateful  for 
my  sugar-plums." 

"Look  at  the  picture  first!"  she  said. 

It  was  a  picture  of  a  girl  in  a  reefer  and  a  pilot 
cap,  smiling,  with  a  tilted  chin,  and  her  hands 
behind  her  back.  Under  it  was  printed:  "Miss 
Peggy  Harper,  whose  engagement  to  Lord 
Capenhurst,  was  recently  announced.  Like  her 
fiance,  Miss  Harper  has  always  been  devoted  to 
yachting." 

"It's  a  funny  world,"  said  Tatham  thought- 
fully. 

For  a  space  they  were  silent,  looking  back — 
marvelling  at  the  minuteness  of  big  things  past. 
.  .  .  The  strangeness  of  their  being  here  together 
swayed  them  both;  for  an  instant  the  suburban 
garden  held  all  the  mystery  of  life.  Both  re- 
viewed a  love  that  had  been  an  exquisite  illusion : 
the  man  was  conscious  that  the  woman  by  his 
side  was  far  removed  from  the  girl  whom  he  had 
idealised :  the  woman  knew  that  her  husband  was 
a  world  away  from  the  lover  of  whom  she  used 
to  dream.  ...  In  the  contentment  of  a  perfect 


understanding  they  turned  to  each  other  and 
their  hands  touched. 

"Hark!"  he  exclaimed,  alarmed. 

"He's  crying!"  gasped  Theodosia. 

The  paper  fell  on  the  grass  as  they;  ran  up- 
stairs to  Baby. 


A     000  559  631     7 


